


Oblivion

by Slide (JustSlide)



Series: The Stygian Trilogy [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ADVENTURE!, End of the series, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Some character and ship tags there more for themes than actually being on screen, You know who I mean, action! - Freeform, back with more history nerding, end of the trilogy, romance!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 340,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSlide/pseuds/Slide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years; two years of grief, of pain, of hardship, and Rose thought it was all, finally, over. But the end is only just beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through All This Tract of Years

The wolves had followed him for an hour now. Paved Muggle roads turned to well-trodden paths with signs he couldn’t understand, and when he stepped onto the dirt-tracks they saw him. Gleaming eyes of gold amid the clustered trees, bobbing lights in the shadowy intricacies of twisted trunks and branches and roots. The wind made the dying leaves dip and dance, made boughs bend and bark creak, but the eyes were steady, constant. 

They were just wolves. Mere beasts, nothing more, or so he told himself as he picked up the pace and kept his wand in hand. In a way, he was grateful for their presence. Grateful for the way they made his gut twist in knots, grateful for the way they kept his every other thought focused on their movements, on their loping gaits as they moved about the shrouded undergrowth to stalk him. Moonlight trickled through the canopy of falling leaves to cast flashes of silver across their hides, all rippling stars and lean muscle. But he was a wizard, he had studied at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was not going to be cowed by some mere beast. But so long as he worried about _them_ , he wasn’t worried about seeing his brother. 

The path stabbed downhill, winding through the gloomy woodlands with the chirping undergrowth, and the sound on the breeze changed from the whistle in the leaves to the bubbling of waters. This was the place. Golden eyes followed as he plunged onward until the bubbling became a rushing, and there it was, the surging river with its waters rippling at the starlight above. Like sentinels stood the granite parapets of the bridge, and when he trod on the masonry the wolves did not follow. He stopped and looked to the other side. Nothing waited but these unfathomable woodlands as shrouded by day as they were by night. He pressed on until he was exactly halfway, and his hand brushed along cold stone until he found the carving. 

Nobody had told him exactly what to look for, just that he’d know it when he saw it. When the carved face of a wolf looked up at him from the capstone, he had to concede they were right. His wand tapped against each eye, and he held his breath. 

_If this was a practical joke, I_ _’ll wring someone’s neck_. Practical jokes were more fun when _he_ was the instigator. 

There was no rushing of wind, no creaking of trees, no chiming of illumination. Yet when he looked to the far side of the bridge, he did not see darkened woods at all, but the outskirts of a village. Houses were wooden and solid, with broad, dark beams and painted white walls, and firelight crackled from every window, from the lanterns hanging off posts along the paths winding between the buildings. He crossed the bridge, and when he looked behind him, the golden eyes were gone. 

Voices babbled in a language he didn’t understand, and curious, though not distrusting eyes turned on him as he walked down the street. It had taken some time to get here. Outsiders were likely not common, and so when a middle-aged man with arms like tree-trunks stepped alongside him and said, ‘You will want to come this way,’ he wagered they had the measure of him right enough. 

The man’s English was fractured, but he led him down the main street to the heart of the village, a broad square dominated by a granite statue of a cloaked wizard. At the base of the plinth was carved the old, worn triangle of the Deathly Hallows, and he was so sick of seeing that sign he didn’t care why it was there. By the time he had steeled his expression, his attention was drawn to the tavern. 

Golden light spilt from the windows like there wasn’t enough space for it inside, and when his guide gestured that way, the door swung open for a pair of young men to stumble out. They looked deep into their cups and cheerful for it, and so he chose to assume their words when they brushed hard against his shoulder were drunken apologies. Out here, there was nothing he could do about it. His guide left there, and so he tromped up the wooden stairs and stepped into the firelight. 

The air was all revelry and hope, but his gaze swept across the well-stocked and well-attended bar, the thick tables around which witches and wizards gathered in jovial clumps, the central spectacle of light and joy and music. He knew where to look. He needed the shadows. 

He found the shadow he wanted in a far corner given a wide berth. The locals did not avoid it with an air of apprehension, as he had expected, but simple, calm respect. And so he won more than one suspicious, protective glance as he crossed the tavern and approached the table, more than one mutter of distrust as he drew out the stool and sat opposite the lone occupant. ‘You’re not an easy man to find.’ 

Green eyes he hadn’t seen in so long watched him, framed by hair darker than he remembered, a face more lined than he remembered. ‘I didn’t want to be found.’ 

‘Then your better angels tricked you, since I found you because you helped people. The Polish government sent a Dark Creature Hunter here; he reported this morning that the feral werewolves had already been dealt with.’ 

‘You came all this way because some werewolves were already dead?’ 

‘I was _right_ , wasn’t I?’ 

A sigh, the lowering of the tankard that had barely been touched. ‘What do you _want_ , James?’ 

James Potter narrowed his eyes at his brother. ‘It’s been over two years, and that’s all you’ve got to say to me?’ 

‘If I had anything more to say,’ said Albus in a low, measured voice, ‘then I would have come to Britain to say it.’ 

‘You’ve missed two Christmases. Lily’s seventeenth, to say nothing of my birthdays, Mum’s, Dad’s. All your friends leaving Hogwarts -’ 

The tankard slammed on the table. ‘ _Not_ all of them.’ 

_So that_ _’s still a raw wound._ ‘Instead you’d rather be out here. In dark corners of the world, doing what, exactly?’ 

‘Trying to make them a little less dark.’ Albus didn’t look at him as he sipped his drink. 

‘ _Running_. This isn’t healing, Al, this isn’t having a life, this isn’t getting over your grief. You might be wallowing in the Australian outback, or the Amazonian jungle, or in the middle of bloody nowhere here in Poland, but it’s wallowing all the same. You were hurt, and you wanted to run, and Mum and Dad _let_ you run but this has to _stop_ , Al. Two years.’ 

‘Two years, four months.’ 

James thumped his hand on the table and didn’t care that the locals gave him unhappy looks. ‘Mum let you go because she thought you needed time to sort yourself out. She thought you’d be gone weeks, maybe months. Not _this_ long. She thought you’d actually be _back_!’ 

‘I never said I would be back.’ 

‘So this is it? Your life? Drifting from place to place, righting wrongs like some sort of knight errant, fixing magical problems for magical people in exchange for a roof over your head, a drink at the end of the bloody day?’ 

‘What makes prancing on the Quidditch pitch inherently more purposeful?’ 

‘Because I do it with friends!’ James tossed his hands in the air. ‘Because I have Grandma’s Sunday lunch round the Burrow most weeks. Because I _love_ the game I play, and I love the people I play it with, and I love the life I live outside of it. Sure, the press can bugger off and they cancelled the World Cup thanks to the sodding Council of sodding Thorns, but all that’s been dying out now.’ 

‘Dying out.’ Albus snorted. ‘Raskoph and his people have most of South America. A continent in the hands of deranged dark wizards with their anti-Muggle, traditionalist ways. Is the IMC going to ignore him now? Does the Grindelwald loyalist get a free pass because he’s not pestering the western world any more?’ 

‘The IMC doesn’t do _anything_ any more. You’ve been paying this much attention; you know that. The Americans are dealing with Raskoph and Brazil and all that, and the Council of Thorns elsewhere are just skulking dark wizards that local authorities can deal with. We don’t need an international organisation with its far-reaching powers to deal with them. The bastards are dead, Al; they didn’t die with a bang, they went with a whimper, slowly strangled after they lost their weapons, but they are _history_. And that’s thanks to _you_ , in great part.’ 

Albus wore a frown so unlike the sort James expected from his brother. He had always been serious, sombre, good-hearted, and his frowns were of concern, or thoughtfulness. The light in his eyes now was only bitter. ‘Then my reward is that I want to be left alone.’ 

‘Bloody hell, Al. I know Malfoy was your friend. I know you were close. And I can’t guess what it’s like to lose him. But two years. _Rose_ has moved on. Why can’t you?’ 

‘I’m not Rose. Rose can do whatever she likes.’ But the big shoulders hunched up, and now concern _did_ enter those honest green eyes. James had, for the longest time, been jealous of his brother’s eyes. He looked so much like their father, so much like the hero, that whenever the press talked about the heir to Harry Potter’s mantle, they always talked about Albus. Even before Phlegethon and the Council of Thorns and the burdens that had racked and broken Albus, until James couldn’t feel envy any more, only pity. 

When Al continued, the falseness of his indifference was nearly tangible. ‘How is Rose?’ 

James shrugged. ‘I’ve not seen her since she left Hogwarts. Got a job at Gringotts, Curse Breaker. I think she’s in Egypt right now.’ 

‘Is she happy?’ 

‘I don’t know, Al. I’m not the one she speaks to. That was always you. You’d have to ask Hugo.’ 

Albus scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘And Selena? Matt?’ 

‘Er, Doyle might be out there with Rose. I know they got the same graduate scheme with Gringotts, couldn’t swear they’re on the same dig. Rourke’s working for _The Clarion,_ I think. I don’t really know. I _do_ know none of them are my brother, and none of them have been gone for two years, and none of them have been making Mum cry herself to sleep on a regular basis.’ 

Albus looked down. ‘I can’t come home, Jim. I can’t deal with everyone expecting everything to be how it used to -’ 

‘Nobody’s _expecting_ anything of you, Al. Look, Mum and Dad don’t know I’m here, I didn’t tell them _you_ were here, I didn’t want to get their hopes up and if Dad knew then he’d come drag you home by your ankles and I _know_ that this has to be your choice…’ James slumped, all the pent-up steam now leaking out the gaps. ‘They just want to see you. To hear from you. To know you’re okay. And you’re obviously _not_ okay. What the hell’s going on, Al?’ 

‘My best friend was murdered.’ 

‘Except the way you’ve been acting, it’s like _you_ killed him.’ James was being facetious. He didn’t expect a flinch in response. 

‘I might as well have.’ Albus looked away. ‘James, don’t think I don’t appreciate you looking for me. But stop. Turn around. And _leave_. If I come back, it’ll be because I _choose_ to come back, and there’s nothing you can say to change how I feel. You’re my brother, but you don’t understand, _can_ _’t_ understand.’ 

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s nothing _I_ can _say._ ’ James pulled out the folded envelope. 

‘What’s this?’ 

‘I do hope fighting obnoxiously evil things all over the world hasn’t sapped you of the power of literacy, but I’ll make it easy. It’s an invitation. To Teddy and Victoire’s wedding.’ 

Albus froze halfway to reaching for it. ‘Oh.’ 

‘Yeah. _Oh_. It’s next month. And I know it would mean an awful lot to an awful lot of people if you could be there. That’s why I started looking for you. I thought - you can show up, and the day’s all about _them_ , and it doesn’t have to be about you, and maybe if it’s terrible and awkward then you can leave again.’ 

‘I don’t want -’ 

‘To hurt people by showing up and leaving? Al, you’re hurting people _right now_ by being gone and staying gone. I don’t think you could make this any more painful.’ 

Albus picked up the envelope with slow, deliberate fingers, like it might turn to ash in his hands. ‘How are they?’ 

_Now he asks_. ‘Dad’s been busy. Council of Thorns and all. Mum _keeps_ busy, she did a spate in Morocco for the African Cup. And Lily’s started her NEWTs. She wants to be an Obliviator. And they’d all do a hell of a lot better for seeing you.’ James blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘As would Teddy. He’s the only one who knows I’m here; nobody else knows you got an invitation because we didn’t know how to _get_ you one… but he asked for you specific, Al.’ 

Albus dropped the envelope like it burned. ‘I can’t, James. They’ll be better off without me.’ 

‘I really doubt it.’ 

‘Everyone will sort out their own lives soon enough. And anyway, when did you stop being a puffed-up git more interested in Quidditch, girls, and fame?’ 

James was used to people trying to hit him where it hurt. He was _not_ used to it from Albus. When they’d butted heads, it was on principle and belief; it was the job of _him_ , James, to make cheap digs. Not Albus. Never Albus. He got to his feet, and drew his cloak around himself. The roaring fires were suddenly not quite so warming. ‘When I lost my brother. You’d understand that.’ This stunned Albus into silence, and he waved a hand at the envelope. ‘Keep it.’ 

‘James -’ 

Al was rising, too, but now the heat was stinging his eyes and he turned away. ‘You just be careful, running around as an international do-gooder. If something happened to you, we’d never even know.’ 

James didn’t wait for an answer. The locals were still giving him cautious, suspicious look as he stomped out of the tavern, into the chilly autumn air, down the darkening streets loomed over by houses shrouded in night. It was without a second look that he left, headed for the bridge and back into the forests which were soon enough all-consuming. The Portkey back to Warsaw was a long hike away, and he didn’t want to be home too late. 

The wolves followed him most of the way back.

* * 

‘Almost four thousand years old,’ Matt hissed as sandstone shattered overhead, raining a fine powder down on them, ‘and he’s _breaking it_.’

Rose Weasley ignored him. The spells came thick and fast, and she still wasn’t sure how many Thornweavers had burst into the tomb. That Castagnary and his men were breaking things was not as big a concern to her as that they were trying to _kill_ them. She risked a glance around the ornately carved pillar. ‘I see five. Castagnary at the back.’ 

‘Is that five _with_ Castagnary -’ 

‘ _Yes_.’ 

‘Well, of course he’s at the back.’ Matthias Doyle reached for the sword hilt at his hip, nestled in a scabbard no more than an inch long. When he drew the blade, it was as long as his forearm, and the adamantine edge glistened against the lantern-light. ‘Why would he be at the front when he can send his flunkeys?’ 

Again, Rose didn’t answer. She could see the other two of their team, not fighters but researchers, cowering behind Ranisonb’s sarcophagus as spells thudded into ancient walls and ruined the hieroglyphics and intricate markings so badly she could imagine Matt’s future rants. But it was the spells themselves she cared about. _Exclusively Stuns, three wands only. Suppressive fire. Which means there are two not firing, which means -_

She swung out from behind her cover into the alcove against the wall, not into the line of heavy spell-fire. ‘ _Stupefy_!’ 

As anticipated, there was a Thornweaver there to flank them. He managed to bring his wand up and block the bulk of the spell, not the whole effect, and staggered. His movements went sluggish, desperate, and so the next flash from her wand took his legs out from under him, leaving him a bundled, unmoving mess on the cold, stone floor. 

‘Cover me,’ she told Matt, and lunged for the next column. The three Thornweavers throwing spells from the doorway hadn’t realised she’d foiled their flanking action, and so she moved from one pillar to the next, keeping low and in the shadows. Matt was in no position to offer covering _anything_ , as spells still thudded into the air around him, the masonry he was hidden behind, but so long as they thought someone was _there_ … 

A spell whizzed an inch past her ear. She was almost to the left of the doorway, but they’d seen her, and she ducked low to avoid the salvo of spell-fire. Bellowed commands came from deeper into the passageway, and she recognised Castagnary’s voice, knew enough fractured French to understand. She was closer. She was the priority. After all, if she got too close, Castagnary might actually be in _danger_. 

Rose allowed herself a thin smile, and her wand shot out. _Matt_ _’s going to kill me_ , she thought, and hurled a pile of four thousand year-old pottery out of the corner and at the trio of Thornweavers trying to blow her to smithereens. At the yelps and crackles of protective spells, she ducked out the side, lashed out thrice at the staggering wizards. One more went down, another blocked, the third - 

And the world turned upside-down as a Stun cracked through her Shield and into her shoulder. Her limbs didn’t lock up, but they did stiffen, and she fell with a thud to the ground. 

_Ennervate. Ennervate!_ But concentrating through the effects was hell even without turning her wand on herself, without her heart trying to thud its way out of her chest at the knowledge she was a sitting duck. Light sparked at the tip of her wand, but it did nothing more than cast illumination along the wall of Ranisonb’s tomb, sending jagged shadows along the hieroglyphs and reliefs retelling as-yet unknown secrets of his life, his work, his magics. 

She wondered if they’d ever finish unravelling this puzzle that had consumed them the last two months. 

‘ _Swithefy_!’ That was not a spell she’d heard before, but she knew Matt’s voice, heard his footsteps thudding on the sandstone slabs underfoot, and realised he’d charged the Thornweavers. Alone. 

_Ennervate_! Her wand jerked at her command and she could move, think, breathe - roll to one knee, wand braced before her, just in time to see Matt crash into the enemy. The one in front had lifted a shield and looked dismissive, unperturbed that he was being charged by a man with a sword - except that sword cracked into the magical barrier, which didn’t so much as sputter before the adamantine broke it. 

And the blade kept going, with a force so redoubtable Rose realised Matt’s spell had not been cast at the Thornweavers, but on himself. Metal met flesh and bone and the wizard who’d Shielded himself didn’t manage more than a scream and a gurgle before he dropped. Even then Matt’s wand, in his other hand, was moving, whipping up at the second Thornweaver with a wordless spell that blasted him into the wall with a crunch. 

But Matt was out in the open doorway, and realisation bubbled in Rose’s throat as she flashed her wand at him to bring up a Shield, more or less - 

It was more, because the slashing curse that barrelled from the passageway didn’t kill him. But there was an impact, a spurt of blood, the slashing sound of magic on flesh. Matt staggered, hand coming to his shoulder - or was it his throat - and fell like a sack of sand. 

Rose didn’t remember moving. The next thing she knew, she was stood over his bleeding, only weakly-stirring form, hurling a volley of spells down the tomb’s passageway, the long, winding corridor that burrowed through the sands towards daylight. But down here there was only darkness and magic and death, and the only light in the corridor came from her onslaught as Adhemar Castagnary parried spell after spell with waning efficiency. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d met, wasn’t the first time they’d crossed wands, and he had challenged her more in their pursuit for Ranisonb’s tomb than in combat. An unremarkable wizard of no distinguished features and a face as bland as Rose’s own cooking, she never would have taken him for one of the Council of Thorns’ foremost expedition leaders. They’d learnt the hard way, over the last few months, that he could be ruthless in his choices and his tactics, but she still knew she could take him in a fight, and she was full of fight. 

Castagnary swished his wand to knock her spell to one side, but his next words weren’t an incantation. ‘Weasley! Every second you spend trying to kill me, he’s losing more blood.’ 

She froze, wand in a low guard, dark eyes locked on the man who’d hounded them throughout this hunt, and would hound them again if he fled. ‘You’re lucky it was him you fought in the Theban Necropolis, Castagnary. _He_ didn’t want to kill you when you were at his mercy.’ 

‘Which I’m sure you would regret a great deal if you allowed that wound to be fatal. I have no doubt that, if you pursued, you would catch me.’ He took slow steps back, deeper into the shadows of the passageway. ‘But how long would it take?’ 

Her lip curled. ‘Give my regards to Raskoph when you tell him we got to Ranisonb’s tomb first.’ 

But Castagnary was too sensible to rise to the bait, and so all Rose got was a cheery wave of the wand in farewell as the agent of the Council of Thorns fled. She could hear his footsteps thudding down the passageway, and only when they faded did she let her wand drop. Then she rounded on Matt, and her throat closed up as she took in the growing pool of blood he lay in, only weakly stirring. 

‘ _Matt_ -’ 

She didn’t care that she was getting blood on her trousers, on her hands as she flew to his side, and her only source of relief was that she saw the wound had indeed been to his shoulder, not his neck. His jaw was a knot of tight muscles as he gritted his teeth through the pain, eyes wide, and when she touched the bloodied gash a choke escaped past his lips. ‘Don’t -’ 

‘I’ve got you, it’s not too deep, it’s nowhere vital…’ Healing spells she’d summoned to mind a thousand times came for the thousand-and-first as her wand waved over the injury. Flesh knitted together, bringing up pink skin instead of vivid red blood. 

‘I’m okay, it’s not too…’ 

‘Nejem, Lowsley, get over here!’ To her relief, her voice came out commanding, not shaking, as she beckoned the rest of their Curse Breaker team. 

Twin heads popped out from behind the sarcophagus. They were three, maybe four years her senior in age and employment by Gringotts, but they still came when called like students answering Professor Stubbs at Hogwarts, all but falling over each other to cross the tomb. 

‘Er, we were just, er -’ 

‘Cowering,’ Nejem cut Lowsley off. He was always the more frank of the two. 

‘Good. It means you didn’t get your fool heads blown off.’ Rose didn’t look up from her work on Matt’s wound, letting the magic sink deeper to the root of the injury. She had dealt with the bulk of the sliced muscle and flesh and veins, but would have to root out the curse to make sure it didn’t wriggle these seams open. ‘Lowsley, get me my bag; Nejem, stop the bleeding one from dying and tie them both up - and stay _still_ , Matt.’ 

Her hand on his shoulder tightened as he tried to sit up, and he gave a low groan. ‘How’d they find us?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ 

‘Is Castagnary gone?’ 

‘Ran. As ever.’ 

‘You don’t think he’s going to block the passageway?’ 

‘This tomb and its complex have remained intact for the last four thousand years. There is no way Castagnary can bring them down in a matter of minutes. Besides, my understanding of Ranisonb’s protections is _far_ superior to his.’ 

Matt gave a low, pained chuckle. ‘You say that with such certainty.’ 

‘Castagnary’s a parasite; he just followed our trail.’ Her gaze met his, the grey eyes which were gaining more focus at the healing. ‘What were you _thinking_ , charging them?’ 

His expression hardened. ‘You were Stunned. I wasn’t sure I could bring them down before they finished you off. The advantage of a charge is that it not only _confuses_ wizards, it _distracts_ them.’ 

‘And left you open to be dropped by Castagnary.’ 

‘It _would_ be embarrassing if he’d killed me.’ 

But then mousey Lowsley put her bag down, and she reached into the magically-extended pack and didn’t look at either of them. Lowsley ran a hand through his mop of dark hair, until the sharp voice of Nejem broke his hovering. ‘Come, Lowsley, good chap; we’ve got ne’er do wells to truss up like the scoundrels they are.’ 

Rose liked Nejem more than Lowsley, even if both young wizards were more research assistants than great minds here to push their work forward. Nejem had some grasp of social nuance, and so he had granted her a few moments where she didn’t have to fend off the gaze of a near-stranger before she found the solid case in which she stored her bottles, found the Blood-Replenishing Potion she pressed into Matt’s hand. ‘Drink. Now.’ 

He sat up with less difficulty, and drank the potion because he knew better than to argue. Colour rushed into his complexion within moments, though she was intent on administering at least one more before the end of the day. He coughed as he lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth. ‘I’m alright, Rose. Really.’ 

‘You will be, and only if you do as I say.’ She got to her feet, swept her gaze across the four Thornweavers being wrestled into magical bindings by Lowsley and Nejem. That would be a final indignity for their failure, to be tied up by a pair of hapless academics. ‘We’re going to have to send word to the Cairo office.’ 

Matt struggled to his feet. ‘We’ve got work to do here -!’ 

‘The Council of Thorns knows about this location,’ Rose said. ‘We can re-establish some of Ranisonb’s protections, but once breached they’re never the same again. This isn’t research to be conducted by a four-man team; now we’ve confirmed we’ve found something, Gringotts needs to send a full expedition, complete with security.’ 

His expression pinched, but he didn’t argue. He looked at the Thornweavers. ‘We hand these over to the authorities in Cairo?’ 

Rose shrugged. ‘I say we hand them over to Gringotts. The goblins will be less kind.’ She didn’t trust the magical authorities in Egypt. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the government had handed their team’s travel details to Castagnary in the first place. Gringotts weren’t above corruption or bribery, but _they_ wanted Ranisonb’s tomb. 

Matt sighed. Ranisonb had been one of the greatest wizards of the court of Amenemhat I, and they’d been chasing his burial tomb almost since arriving in Egypt. The main Gringotts dig site was in el-Lisht, but records had given them a lead which Matt had pounced on, and the head of the expedition had granted this little team the right to chase what had been assumed to be a wild goose chase. They’d suspected they were on to more when they found records in Swenett. They’d _known_ they were onto something when they’d been attacked by the Council of Thorns at the Theban Necropolis, and what had started as a desire for Rose and Matt to make their names as new Curse Breakers for Gringotts had turned into a familiar, deadly race against followers of Colonel Raskoph. She still wasn’t sure why they wanted Ranisonb’s tomb, but Rose took the firm stance that if the Council of Thorns wanted something, it was a duty to the world to make sure they didn’t get it. 

‘I was looking forward to exploring this place,’ said Matt, adjusting his now-torn jacket. 

‘We still can.’ 

‘Like hell. If Cairo’s got to send in a whole team, or if Ainsley’s going to redirect people from el-Lisht; now this is a _find_ , not a nothing, they’ll give this to a fully-qualified Surveyor. Someone with experience. Someone who’s studied Ranisonb for more than a few weeks.’ 

Lowsley looked up. ‘He’s right. Sorry, Ms Weasley, but we could have explored this place while waiting on Ainsley to send us more people. But if we’ve got to get security down here to keep the Council of Thorns at bay, we’ll be on assistant work.’ 

‘As ever, Lowsley,’ mused Nejem, nudging his dusty glasses up his nose, ‘you manage to find the cloud in every silver lining.’ He looked to Rose. ‘But they do have the right of it, I’m afraid. We’ll be relegated to the rank-and-file before you can say “Tutankhamen”.’ 

Rose noticed how they apologised to her, when it was Matt who was looking forlorn. She’d done her part. Thwarting the defences of Ranisonb’s tomb had been her achievement, the challenge _she_ had wanted to test herself against. While no doubt there would be untold secrets in this burial site, and whilst the idea of being the one to discover them did bring a small, unusual surge of anticipation to her gut, the idea of reading someone _else_ _’s_ analysis and findings was not much less exciting. It was Matt who would want to write the papers, head the expedition, uncover all the secrets. She only cared because he cared. 

‘Bundle up the Thornweavers,’ she said instead, ‘and take some pictures. We need to be in Cairo within the hour, and it’ll take me a little time to re-seal the tomb behind us.’ 

Matt looked across the tomb of Ranisonb, the both of them scarred and battered from the fight. ‘One of the biggest finds of this expedition, our first find as Curse Breakers, from a search across Egypt, thwarting Adhemar Castagnary and his Thornweavers, no less… and I bet that prick Ainsley’s going to dock us pay for letting this place get damaged.’

* * 

The lights of night-clad Cairo twinkled like treasure submerged in the ocean. Gringotts unofficially owned one of the magical hotels by virtue of always filling its rooms, and from her window Rose was high enough to get a good look at the city. Once she would have found it entrancing, full of opportunity and secrets. But now it was just another city, and she’d seen dozens of those all over the world.

She closed the shutters and turned back to the papers on the small writing desk. Nejem had been right; Ainsley and their superiors at Gringotts were sending a new team to Ranisonb’s tomb, complete with security guards and expert surveyors with long years under their belts. Their team had the choice: they could continue as mundane excavators, helping with the research, or they could take the bonus for finding the resting place of one of the Twelfth Dynasty’s greatest wizards and go home. Rose didn’t care; either was work, but she knew Matt’s pride balked at the idea of becoming a flunky on ‘his’ dig-site. 

The fan whirred overhead, a buzzing interloper in her thoughts as she rifled through the missives from the office. It was a small, cramped room, the paint peeling away from the walls like it was offended by the masonry, and when she’d first stayed here in the summer, the muggy heat had been almost choking. Now they were marching onto November, and there was a pleasant breeze through her window. Which meant there was a crack somewhere, but that would be the next occupant’s problem. 

She rubbed her eyes. Bureaucracy was her job in the team, not because Matt or Nejem or Lowsley were lazy, but just because she’d always done it. For once she couldn’t concentrate and her gaze drifted to the door. Matt had been put to bed two hours ago with strict instructions to sleep, though she knew she was fussing more than his injury necessitated. She got up and headed for the corridor anyway. The lantern hanging from the ceiling flickered, the charge in the magical light drained and in need of replenishment, and so heading for Matt’s room was like moving in stop-motion, every other second a jerking advance. 

_You should let him rest_ , she told herself, and knocked on his door. If he didn’t answer, then he was resting too deeply and needed it, but it was only nine o’ clock, it was possible he’d napped - 

The door swung open after a hasty scraping back of the chain, and there he stood, skin pale against his dark, dishevelled hair, but his grey eyes were bright, alert. He gave an anxious smile. ‘Hey.’ 

‘Hey.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I’m not interrupting?’ 

‘I woke up about ten minutes ago. You’re never an interruption.’ He stepped back and let her in, his room identical to hers except the papers on the desk were research notes, not Gringotts bureaucracy. ‘You okay?’ 

‘I confirmed with Ainsley and the head office we’ll be taking the finder’s fee and returning to London. I assumed you wouldn’t have a problem with that.’ She perched on the edge of the desk, looking to the window. His room overlooked the outskirts of the city, so there was a harsh line where light succumbed to darkness, and the stretching oblivion of Egypt beyond Cairo. He hadn’t turned on the fan, so the room was filled with the city, the warmth and sound and scent like a blanket of a world so different to Britain and Hogwarts and home. But then, he wore the rest of the world like a part of him in a way she never did. 

‘Of course not.’ Matt slipped the door back on the chain. She knew the locks would include all manner of additional magical protections, because she’d taught him hers. ‘Ainsley’s a hack, he’s just in it for the money. I’d rather blast myself in the foot than be his excavation monkey.’ 

Rose swallowed a memory and nodded. ‘Then we’ve got a Portkey to Britain tomorrow. We can let Griznak know the situation.’ 

‘I think he’ll be pleased. And _I_ _’m_ pleased, Rose, don’t get me wrong.’ He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her with the faintest knot in his brow. ‘Ranisonb’s tomb on our first proper assignment? Ainsley didn’t believe us and now it’s egg on hisface. He won’t get a reprimand for it, but we’re establishing ourcredentials. I bet we can get our own team out of this.’ 

‘You’d rather have that? Chasing leads and then dropping them when we find the dig-site, letting someone else do the long-term work? I thought you love poring over Ranisonb’s tomb.’ 

‘I would. But Surveyors are ten a knut in Gringotts. People who’ll chase the leads, do the homework, dance through protective traps and spells, even though nothing might come of any of it? Much less competition in those departments. Once we make our names, we can _pick_ our assignments. And let’s face it, Rose, we’ve got a better idea of what it takes than half of the department.’ She would have been satisfied doing the grind, taking her time, but Matt wanted it all, and he wanted it now. Considering he’d cut his teeth on one of the greatest finds of the twenty-first century, even if they’d then _lost_ the Chalice of Emrys, she couldn’t blame him. And she certainly wouldn’t stand in his way. 

She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. It had escaped the tight braid she wore these days, no-nonsense and out of the way, but today had been a frantic occasion and she hadn’t cared for her coiffure. ‘Do you want to keep Lowsley and Nejem? It sounds harsh when they’ve got years of experience on us, but I bet Griznak would let us call the shots.’ 

‘I like them.’ Matt nodded. ‘Lowsley does what he’s told and Nejem’s down-to-earth, in a ridiculous academic sort of way. They’re bright, I like doing research with them, and I think they’re learning of the spirit of adventure.’ 

‘Adventure. Sure.’ She stared at the motionless fan, lips thinning to a fine line. ‘How’re you feeling?’ 

‘I’m fine.’ He shrugged - then winced, and had to smirk. ‘That wasn’t smart of me. But seriously. Castagnary doesn’t have enough mojo in him to make me more than flinch.’ 

‘He flattened you and had you bleeding out.’ 

‘It was a sucker punch!’ 

She didn’t move, her voice remaining flat. ‘I don’t care. That sword still makes you move _out_ of cover.’ 

‘I couldn’t down them at range; their Shields were too strong, but nobody expects someone to come at them with a sword and collapse their magic.’ 

‘And if that doesn’t work, you’re in the open, up close, and usually against superior numbers.’ 

‘I didn’t have a choice. They were going to pick you off at their leisure.’ 

Only now did she straighten, chin jerking up half an inch, jaw tightening. ‘I didn’t ask you to expose yourself like that.’ 

‘Of course you didn’t.’ His eyes followed her as she started pacing, stalking closer to the door, closer to him. ‘But I thought we were way past asking things like that.’ 

‘You should have been more careful.’ Her throat was closing up, a familiar, bitter taste rising, and this time she couldn’t fight the quaver in her voice. ‘A few inches to the left and Castagnary’s spell would have been -’ 

‘But it wasn’t.’ His hand caught her elbow and she froze, teetering on the brink. ‘I’m okay. You’re okay. Today was a win.’ 

‘It almost wasn’t.’ She couldn’t meet his gaze, so studied the paint peeling on the wall behind him. 

‘Almost doesn’t hack it. Hey. Look at me.’ She did, and found those grey eyes, like a sea she could swim in. The corner of his mouth curled. ‘You can let go. It’s done. We’re okay, and we can worry about Castagnary and all that -’ 

_Later_ , she finished silently, and the word unlocked something in her chest. Relief and anguish melded together in that eternal bittersweet cocktail, the closest she got to feeling anything which didn’t punch a hole in her. But with him she could let herself drown, and so she cut him off. 

Not with more arguments. But when she fell into his arms, they were open, hopeful, shrouding, and his lips on hers were like a chaser that beckoned her into the intoxicating depths. Her hand ran over his shoulder, her touch delicate as it traced the wound, and she knew the dark magic would guarantee yet another scar. But he had survived to be marked, and could once again be her harbour, the safe ground. 

He cupped her chin in his hand, tilted her mouth up to deepen the kiss, and his touch drew the bubbling in her chest out as a small, involuntary noise at the back of her throat. She had to break the embrace, had to gasp for air, and words spilt out the moment they could, rushing against his lips. ‘I can’t lose you…’ 

‘You won’t,’ he breathed, his hold on her tightening, pinning her against him, and she was all-too happy to be helpless in his arms. ‘I promise you, Rosie, I’ll be careful, I _promise_ …’ 

He’d been waiting for this, she realised as she smothered his promises with another kiss. He’d known she would need to steel herself before she came to him, and he’d waited, because Matthias Doyle would wait a hundred years for her. He’d waited almost two, waited through the grief of her shattered world, helped put the pieces back together, and though he’d said nothing, expected nothing, she knew he’d hoped. And now they were here, and he could silence the screaming shards of that shattered world. 

Afterwards, when she lay bundled against him and staring at that motionless fan hanging above, he nuzzled her loosened hair and murmured, ‘I didn’t mention, with everything. I got that flat in Cambridge.’ 

She frowned at the fan. ‘You say, “that” flat…’ 

‘ _A_ flat.’ His breath caught. ‘Dad helped find it, but he’s paranoid on security these days. And probably souped it up. But I’m gainfully employed in a job which tries to kill me; I don’t fancy living with my parents when we get back to England. The papers were waiting when we got here. Contract’s signed, deposit’s paid, the place is mine.’ She could see where the path ahead wound, but couldn’t bring herself to take leaping steps down it. So she waited until he led her further, murmuring, ‘I know you don’t like staying with your parents much if you can help it…’ 

Even though uncertainty was her stock in trade, she despised relying on it, and had to shift to look him in the eye. ‘Is this an invitation for me to have drawer space, or…?’ 

‘Or more. If you want. It could be _our_ place.’ Matt winced. ‘I know, it feels fast after just a few months, but I don’t _care_ about the normal rules; there’s not a damn thing about our life together that’s been normal. And when weeks racing across Egypt being hunted by a crazy Frenchman is par for the course, that’s saying something.’ 

He was starting to babble, so she silenced him with a kiss, and had to mirror his smile when she drew back. ‘Cambridge. I like Cambridge.’ 

‘I thought you would,’ he murmured, and she reflected how this was as much an in-depth discussion as they ever gave these matters. The most important topics were never dissected as much as the magical protections of tombs of wizards dead for thousands of years. The decision was made, and that was that. 

The beds in these hotel rooms were all creaking springs and threadbare sheets, but for a time she slept as deeply as he did, nestled in his arms. The ventures of the day, physical, emotional, psychological, were enough to exhaust her beyond dreams. So it was almost dawn when they came, as they always did, as they _especially_ did after Matt had silenced them for a time, twisting visions of falling shapes and grey smoke and shimmering veils, and she woke like she always did, choking back sobs. 

Matt slept too deeply to be woken, and for once she was glad of this, because she didn’t want to see the shadow in his eyes which came every time he saw her torment. He meant nothing by it, was as patient as a man could be, but after over two years, she couldn’t fight the guilt that she could go to bed with Matt’s name on her lips and rise with a dead man’s. It was better he rested. For her scars as well as his. 

A full night’s sleep was a fantasy after all this time, and so she greeted the dawn like she always did, sat at a desk with some book or another before her, consuming words about something, _anything_ , so long as they chased back the shadows of her loss. 


	2. Truth is This

The Old Rectory always did its utmost to look like it had fallen out of a postcard. In autumn the house preened, limestone walls in dazzling contrast to the opal shades of dying leaves. The season’s Midas touch turned summer’s green to shimmering gold, and the view from Rose’s old bedroom window of the back garden was like staring into a Gringotts vault. 

But she couldn’t care about the view at the best of times, and right now she wasn’t even going to pretend. She had to deal with her father. 

‘Eight months!’ he was saying, stood in her door with his arms folded across his chest. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?’ 

She unfolded another box, spellotaped it together, removed her cat Artemis upon her immediate lunge into said box, and looked at her bookshelf. There was a lot on those shelves she would never read again, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. Even if they might as well have belonged to someone else. ‘If you count how long we were together the first time,’ she said, stacking dusty volumes, ‘it’s about a year. How long were you and Mum a couple before you moved in together?’ 

Ron Weasley scowled. ‘Four years. _Ha_.’ 

_Damn_. ‘That’s only because you had a bachelor pad with Harry. And I’m pretty sure parental disapproval shouldn’t deliver its victorious blows with smug laughter.’ He looked guilty, the way he did when she implied he was being a bad father, and shame flooded through her. Thankfully, Artemis was back in the box, so she could hide her expression behind the extraction of an indignant cat. 

‘I’m just looking out for you, Rosie. I know nothing’s been normal. And I’m not really worried about it being too _fast_ , I know you’ve known Matt for years and if it’s right, it’s right.’ She didn’t want to point out that this advice from a man who’d married his first and only love was not particularly well-informed, but then he’d sat on the bed, hands clasped before him, and she couldn’t bring herself to be any more sarcastic. ‘But nothing about this is simple.’ 

Artemis was dropped. ‘Why does _everything_ have to come back to Scorpius? It’s been over _two years_ -’ 

‘And you still miss him,’ Ron said, voice level. ‘And it still keeps you up at night. And it’s still _changed_ you. I remember when my little girl used to laugh.’ 

She stood. ‘I’m not a little girl any more. I haven’t been a little girl since _long_ before Scorpius died. And I’m a graduate of Hogwarts, I’m a Gringotts Curse Breaker, I’m nineteen. _You_ weren’t a kid when you were nineteen.’ 

‘I suppose it doesn’t count for much if I say that I’d wanted something different for you.’ 

Rose wilted at the creasing in the corners of her father’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry the world didn’t work out that way, Dad.’ 

He stood and crossed the bedroom to wrap large hands around her shoulders. ‘I want you to be happy. I wouldn’t care if you’d known Matt five minutes if he made you happy, really happy. I just don’t want to see things go sour for you.’ 

‘Matt doesn’t hurt me. He won’t, he couldn’t.’ 

Ron watched her for a moment, blue eyes trying to pierce her masks, but people who knew her better than he had tried and failed to breach her defences. ‘I sometimes wonder if that’s the problem.’ 

It was more astute than she was comfortable with, and so she pulled away, turned to the wardrobe. Artemis followed, keen at the prospect of invading dusty corners. ‘I’m not leaving because of you or Mum. I want my own space, Dad, you can get that?’ 

‘I get that. It’s just a father’s job to worry.’ 

‘If you’re going to worry,’ she said, rifling through old clothes she’d never got around to throwing out, ‘worry about international terrorists.’ 

‘That’s my _other_ job. But when they’re coming for you, I take my work home. I’m still looking into this Castagnary fellow.’ 

‘Raskoph is a loon. An intelligent, diabolical, dangerous loon, but he’s a loon nevertheless, and he’ll take any bid for power he can get. Gringotts has had dozens of run-ins with Thornweavers competing for old magical artifacts, either for their powers or the money they can make as a result. He wasn’t chasing us because it was Matt and me; I bet Raskoph doesn’t bloody _care_ about the remainder of the Hogwarts Five. But he’d love anything he could get out of Ranisonb’s tomb, and Castagnary’s like a dog doing tricks for his master. He’s amateur league.’ 

‘I don’t care if he’s the Chudley Cannons of Thornweavers, he’s _still_ been coming after you.’ 

Rose gave her father a suspicious look. ‘Did you just concede the Cannons are terrible?’ 

‘I’m _that_ determined to make a point, yes.’ Ron nodded sombrely. ‘Though if I ever hear you say anything like that ever again, I’m disowning you.’ 

She sighed, and started to toss clothes out of the wardrobe and into a box. She could sort them on the other side. ‘I’m careful, Dad. I’m always careful. Even you would struggle to get through my security wards.’ 

‘I promise I won’t stage a fake break-in at your new house to test this and make sure you’re taking safety seriously.’ 

‘Thank you,’ said Rose, ‘for not being a complete freak of nature.’ She bit her lip. ‘Is there any news about Albus?’ 

Ron flinched at the change of topics. ‘The same as usual. Reports a few weeks old; if Harry chases them up, he’s long gone. He was in the Azores last we heard. Mermaids haranguing ships.’ 

‘How’re Harry and Ginny?’ 

‘Tense. Worried. Harry keeps busy, and there’s always Council activity to deal with. Even if it’s quietening down.’ Ron shrugged. ‘It sounds like Al’s okay, but he’s still _gone_ , and after this long… I mean, everyone thought he would be back by now.’ He shifted his feet. ‘They don’t say it. But they wonder if he’d speak to _you_ -’ 

‘I’d have to _find_ him,’ Rose said quickly. ‘And if Harry can’t find him, how am I supposed to? Besides, he won’t talk to me.’ 

‘You both -’ 

‘No. What’s going on with Al is different.’ _I think_. ‘And I can’t begin to unravel it. Only he can sort this out, Dad. And he will.’ 

‘After two years?’ 

‘Time heals all injuries,’ said Rose, and proved the world had a sense of irony when she reached to haul Artemis out of the wardrobe and instead pulled out the green knitted jumper. 

Colour drained from the world once more, reverting faded shades to cold, stark black and white, and for a long moment she could only stand there, blood rushing in her ears, heart clawing its way out of her chest to scream and gnash its teeth and tear the world asunder. 

_I_ _’ll come back every time_ \- 

She shoved the jumper back in the wardrobe, expressionless, and prayed her father, the professional Auror, hadn’t spotted this. ‘What’s the news on Raskoph?’ 

Ron took so long to answer that she _knew_ he’d seen. ‘Brazil, still. He’s got full control of the Council of Thorns, though these internal power-plays have gutted the organisation. It’s like they’re eating their young, vying for power so wildly they’ll kill themselves. They’ve lost _so many_ big names that there’s nobody to compete with Raskoph any more.’ 

‘It’s not just internal power-plays, though, is it.’ Rose closed the wardrobe slowly, deliberately, and stared at it until grey turned to sepia to faded mahogany. At her feet, Artemis looked up, whiskers dusty, but she couldn’t bring herself to scold the cat for her irksome explorations. ‘It’s Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘We don’t know that Prometheus Thane isn’t working on Raskoph’s orders -’ 

‘He tried to _kill_ Raskoph in April. I saw those reports, Dad. I don’t know what that man’s up to these days, but he’s been murdering his way through some of the biggest names of the Council of Thorns, and Raskoph was almost on that list.’ 

Ron sighed. ‘It _is_ the opinion of the Auror Office and the IMC that Prometheus Thane has gone rogue, yes. He gutted the higher echelons of the Council, and it looks like it was only dumb luck that saved Raskoph in Panama. Then again, he also killed Romano Vida in May, so he’s clearly not on _our_ side if he’s going to target major faces in the IMC. We’re still treating him as just as much of a threat as the Council.’ 

‘No, you’re not.’ She turned to face him, and by now her chest was still and silent, the howling only an echo. ‘You’re not going to pour as many resources into hunting him down so long as he’s doing your job for you and fighting the Council.’ 

‘Don’t say “you” like that,’ Ron admonished. ‘Thane’s not been spotted in Britain since Phlegethon. The Auror Office has nothing to do with hunting him. Hell, the IMC doesn’t have anything to do with hunting him any more. Believe it or not, Rose, things are starting to return to normal. Lillian Rourke’s talking about disbanding the IMC come the year’s end if things continue in this vein. The International Magical Convocation’s become nothing more than a means of governmental liaising, and at this stage it’s better if it’s the law enforcement bodies coordinate than legislative branches.’ 

‘So we’ll let Thane run riot? Let Raskoph warp South America -’ 

‘We will _not_ ,’ said Ron. ‘But my entire job, your mother’s entire job, the entire _Ministry_ , has spent the better part of three years with one focus: fighting the Council of Thorns. The security legislation, the extensions of Enforcer and Auror authority, the restrictions on international trade and travel - that’s not as necessary any more. The Council of Thorns will be brought down and brought to justice, but we can manage to not live and breathe them in everything every government in the world does.’ 

Her shoulders sagged as his words thudded into her, and she hid her expression by setting about closing and labelling every one of the boxes now littering her old bedroom. 

Ron watched her, and gave a guilty sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I don’t mean to snap. But the world’s moving on.’ 

‘I know it is,’ she said. ‘And I’m trying to, too, but you’re questioning that!’ 

For a moment he didn’t say anything, and she heard the shuffle of his feet. ‘Your boss was pleased about Egypt?’ 

‘In so far as a goblin can be. Yes. We’ve got a few weeks off, but Matt’s putting in the request for us to get our own team. I think Griznak’s going to go for it.’ 

‘Good. We’re really proud of you, you know, Rosie.’ Her father sounded gruff, awkward, like he always did when he was trying to be affectionate and wasn’t sure if he was being overbearing. ‘And I know I fuss, but I’m your father, I’m supposed to. If you’re good in your work, and if Matt makes you happy, then I’m not going to question that. I’ll support you, whatever you do. And I’m glad your job’s giving you these weeks off in Britain. Victoire really wants everyone together for the wedding. It’s been too long.’ 

‘And I’m looking forward to it. Really. I’ve not seen Victoire in - God knows how long.’ 

Ron brightened at that. ‘Then come to Sunday lunch at your grandmother’s. She and Teddy will be there, and Harry and Ginny, and I so said _we_ _’d_ come - I bet they’d love to see you. Bring Matt. Scare him with the wider family.’ 

‘Grandma is the _least_ scary wider family imaginable.’ 

‘Yeah, I know. It’ll lull him into a false sense of security so I can corner him.’ Her father grinned toothily, and she couldn’t help but return the smile, even if the reflection lost power. ‘It’s the least I can do if he’s trying to sweep my little girl away to some sordid pad of depravity.’ 

‘It’s _Cambridge_ , Dad.’ 

‘Fine. Some swanky pad of depravity.’ 

She had to laugh, because her father could always make her laugh, and that brought colour creeping back into the world, even though her gaze kept flickering back to the wardrobe in which sat, shoved to the back of the closet like it was shoved to the back of her mind, the knitted green jumper.

* * 

‘If there is anything more we can do -’

‘No. Thank you. All has been good.’ They both spoke Russian, and neither of them very well, because the Elder’s Russian was better than his English and Albus spoke absolutely no Polish. ‘You have been very kind.’ 

The corners of the Elder’s eyes creased, and he shook his head. ‘You were here before the government was. More would have died without you. Food and somewhere to stay is yours, for as long as you need.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Albus said again, because it was one of the phrases he could pronounce with any reliability, and because he wasn’t sure what else to say. It had been three days since James’s visit, and he had yet to leave the village magically hidden in the depths of Poland’s Białowieża Forest. Normally he didn’t linger so long after a job. Normally he did what he came to do, rested as long as he needed to recover from injuries, and then moved on. Else the gratitude of the locals would feel too much like making roots. ‘But it is time for me to go.’ 

The Elder inclined his head, and cold autumn sun shone through the single-paned window to paint his grey hair silver. Albus had paid for this room in the inn for the first two nights, even if it was a prison of cold, creaking wooden boards. Once he’d hunted down the first feral werewolf, the innkeeper had tried to refund him; Albus had refused _that_ , but he’d accepted free board so long as he was doing the village the service it needed. Scorpius’ money remained abundant but wouldn’t last him forever. Still, he’d only take these kinds of offers so long as he was doing something to earn his keep. Now he was threatening to out-stay his welcome. 

‘Where will you go?’ said the Elder at last, and Albus winced. 

‘South, I think,’ he blurted, and paused to gather his words. ‘I will go to Africa. Starting at Turkey.’ _Rose is in Egypt_ , he remembered, and resolved to not go to Egypt. 

‘There is need of you?’ 

Albus looked to the window, to the depths of the Polish forest that sprawled with darker and deeper horrors than even he’d expected to see. Rural eastern Europe was no easy place for witches and wizards to live. He understood why the villagers took precautions to protect themselves which made Diagon Alley look like it was on the main London maps. ‘There will be work. There is always work.’ 

The Elder crossed the room to grasp his hand, part-clasp, part-shake. ‘You are always welcome here, Albus Potter. You always have a place here.’ 

_I have a place nowhere_. But he shook the Elder’s hand with both of his, forced a smile, and said, ‘Thank you.’ Because it was the easiest thing to say. 

The Elder left, ostensibly so he could get on with his packing. Albus had spent the last two years living out of the battered leather rucksack he’d picked up in Montenegro, and he wasn’t Rose. He could only magically expand it a little. It was still big enough to contain all of his worldly belongings; the battered and heavy clothes which provided protection as much as warmth, the smattering of books on magic, monsters, and rituals which came in handy in his line of work, the few pieces of equipment to augment his magic. The road was no place for a full set of luggage. 

He was already packed, but instead of leaving he crossed to the window, draughty with the cool autumn breeze dragging itself through the cracks, and in the mid-morning sun he for the umpteenth time read the wedding invitation. 

It was just a wedding invitation. They were never long and they were rarely personal, and this one was not. The calligraphy was perfect, though, and that said as much as Albus needed to know. This was no contrivance, no trick from James. Maybe Victoire had known and maybe she hadn’t, but Teddy at least had sat down when the invitations were arranged and made sure there was one made just for him. The unwritten message was as plain as the ink. 

_Come home_. 

Albus sighed and shoved the envelope back inside his leather jacket. ‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed, and jumped with an instinct that had his wand in his hand and levelled at the door when there was a knock. It took him a moment to slow his breathing, to slip his wand up his sleeve in case he’d still need it. ‘Come in.’ 

The innkeeper, at least, spoke English, and wore an apologetic expression. ‘I’m sorry, Mister Potter. But there is a visitor for you.’ 

Albus’ expression pinched. ‘The same man as before?’ 

‘No. Another. My height, red hair.’ 

_That narrows it down exactly not at all._ He sighed. ‘That was inevitable. Send him up, please.’ 

He was expecting a cousin, though he wasn’t sure which one. The innkeeper was too short for it to be Uncle Ron, who was the most likely person after his father to come to drag him back by the ankles; Ron would at least do it with an apology and a smile. 

Uncle George was not the last person Albus expected to walk through the door. But Uncle George wasn’t someone he ever really thought about. He ducked into the gloomy, dusty bedroom, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave that half-smile Albus recognised from James sometimes. ‘Hullo, Al.’ 

‘What’re _you_ doing here?’ Albus blurted before he could stop himself. 

‘A fine welcome. Top manners. Your mother would box your ears.’ But George’s voice was light, airy as he wandered in and shut the door behind him without invitation. ‘Jim told me. Good lad, Jim. Conscientious.’ 

Albus gritted his teeth. ‘He said he wasn’t going to tell Mum and Dad.’ 

‘And he didn’t. Like I said, conscientious lad. But you know, he’s become a bit of a suck-up the last couple years. He always used to be up for a laugh. Now he runs around like he’s got to be all responsible. I think your dad’s finally getting to him.’ George looked about the room, and in the end settled for perching himself on the edge of the creaky bed. His jacket was worn, his boots muddy. He had to have taken the long hike to find the bridge. ‘This is a nice place. I can see why you’ve stayed.’ 

‘I’ve only been here a week or two. I’m not staying.’ 

‘Oh, the life of an international man of mystery never can wait. I take it you’re not back to Blighty, though?’ 

Albus leaned against the window-frame. ‘There’s nothing for me there.’ 

‘No, you’re right.’ George clicked his fingers. ‘Just your family. Who miss you. My sister, who’s terribly upset. Your dad, who’s been running around like a bear with a bad head, and while that’s made him a right _terror_ against the Council of Thorns, that’s not fun and games for the Potter household.’ 

‘My family has never been the picture of sweetness and light everyone, from the Weasleys to the _Daily Prophet_ , likes to pretend it is. I’m not responsible for everyone’s damage.’ 

‘You’re not. I think they’re responsible for _your_ damage, actually. It’s what your family does when there’s trouble. You cut and run and you go to other people, instead of sticking together.’ George reached into his coat and rustled about the pockets before he pulled out a packet. ‘Boiled sweet?’ 

‘What? No. Why’re you here?’ 

‘To see you. I don’t tromp around the forests of Poland for my health _._ I hear there are feral werewolves out here. Terrible business.’ George unwrapped a sweet noisily, and looked him up and down. ‘I see it’s done wonders for _your_ health. You’ve got muscles on top of muscles now. Though you forgot how to shave and your hair’s a mess. I don’t care, me, I’m just saving you a right telling off from your mum.’ 

‘Mum -’ 

‘Would tell you to stop dressing so shabby and to get cleaned up. Your _Gran_ would have a fit; you’re lucky Ginny grew up with Fred and me, or she’d have ended up just as wound up as her.’ 

Albus exhaled slowly. He’d never known how to handle Uncle George. The Weasley family had forever seen a strong divide between the serious-minded and the pranksters, and the latter was both larger and more united. George was their commander-in-chief, so he’d always had a closer bond with James, with Lily and Hugo, with his son Freddie. He’d never been cruel, had always been good-natured in his jokes and his mockery and never pushed it too far, but all Albus had known to do for years was just laugh along. Not join in or joke back. 

Of all his family, George was the one who had least reason to come for him. 

‘I’m not going to the wedding,’ said Albus. ‘Aside from anything else, I don’t want to distract from the day by showing up and causing a calamity.’ 

‘Poppycock.’ George popped a sweet in his mouth. ‘That’s a good word. I should use it more often. Teddy and Victoire would be pleased as punch if their wedding was punctuated with the calamity of your return. And even if they _weren_ _’t,_ you’ve got weeks until the wedding. You could come home sooner and get all of that drama over and done with. So nobody’s going to gasp and fall over when you walk in at the ceremony, as they’re _supposed_ to do that at the bride.’ 

‘It’s not a -’ 

‘The only reason you’re staying away, Al, is _you_.’ George stabbed a finger at him, gaze sobering. ‘Your fear, your hurt. Not for other people. And that’s fine, but don’t act like you’re martyring yourself by staying away. They want you back far, far more than they’re angry at you. They’re angry because they’re afraid and because they’re upset, and even if they _do_ yell, they’ll probably burst into tears and hug you halfway through.’ 

Albus looked away, back to the sprawling dark forests beyond the village outskirts. A man could lose himself in those forests, he thought. Run with the wolves for a time. 

It was tempting. 

When he returned his gaze to George, his uncle’s expression was firm, hard, though the effect was ruined a little by his voracious sucking on the boiled sweet. ‘Why did you come here?’ 

‘To see -’ 

‘Why did _you_ come? Why did James tell _you_? Why not Ron, or Bill?’ 

George paused at that, breaking the silence by crunching on and swallowing the boiled sweet. ‘I was enjoying that,’ he muttered, but his gaze sobered. Apparently this answer was too important for sweets. ‘James came to me because out of everyone, I’m the one who understands what you’re going through.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘Fred was my brother. My twin. The other half of me.’ George stood, and then he wasn’t the funny uncle who owned a joke shop and always gave the best Christmas presents and seemed to like Al’s wittier, more light-hearted siblings more. He was a grieving man with war-wounds as rough and raw as they’d been twenty-five years ago. ‘We did everything together. Opened a business together. Made every joke together. Losing him was like losing a part of myself.’ 

Albus dropped his gaze. ‘Scorpius wasn’t my brother.’ 

‘Yes, he was. Because there are brothers and there are _brothers_. I love Percy, but he’s no Fred, and that’s a terrible thing to say but it’s true and I’m not ashamed of it.’ George padded across the creaking room to join him slumped against the window. ‘You take after your father, but in the ways which make you a pain in the arse. I know you struggled to find your place. James was the poster-child for the new generation. Full of hope and humour. But you walked around like you had the burdens of the bloody world on you, even when you were eleven, and it didn’t help that you were a terrible twosome with Rose, who was the _fussiest_ child I ever met. And I know that cut you off from the rest of the family.’ 

‘I love James.’ 

‘And I love Percy, but you’ve seen us at Sunday lunches.’ George shook his head. ‘You should have seen Ron when your first letters from Hogwarts came and you gushed about your new friend Scorpius. I mean, he was fine, but he plays up how much of a big deal it is, and I think he was being melodramatic to wind your dad up. Harry, of course, fussedabout it. But I, and all of them, saw a different kid come back for those first Christmas holidays.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘You did?’ 

‘You had a _place_. A best friend who was all yours, not part of this wider family, not part of our baggage and our craziness.’ George shrugged. ‘Sorry. I might be the joker, but you know what divides a good joker from a _great_ joker? Knowing how to read people. A joker who’s only amusing himself becomes obnoxious. A joker who knows his audience will become astonishing.’ 

Albus ducked his head. ‘You lost your brother, your twin. I don’t -’ 

‘There’s no competition on grief.’ George punched him on the shoulder. ‘There’s no entitlement. You lost your best mate, and Rose lost her boyfriend, and Draco Malfoy lost a son, and I care about two of those three people. I don’t know how to help Rose.’ 

‘But you know how to help me?’ 

George hesitated. ‘There are no magic words. You will miss him. Rose will move on; she will love new people and marry some toff and she’ll always hear his jokes at the back of her mind, but it’ll be _different_. You’ve lost a part of you, and you will miss him every fucking day, until it chokes and drowns you and you think you’ll die, but you know what? You don’t die.’ 

Albus slumped. ‘I know I don’t die.’ 

‘And I bet that running across the world doesn’t make you choke less.’ 

‘It doesn’t -’ _It means I don_ _’t have to face the people I failed._   
  
‘There was only one thing I found which worked,’ said George in a low, sombre voice. ‘Living. And family. I wasn’t the only one grieving. Mum and Dad and all my siblings and Angelina - maybe I was the centre of that storm, but we were all caught in it. We didn’t get _better_. When you lose a leg, the leg doesn’t grow back. But you maybe get a peg-leg and it’s pretty shit but you learn how to hobble around, and sometimes you can dress up like a pirate and have a good laugh.’ 

‘It’s not -’ Albus stopped, then the words tore up his throat. ‘It’s more complicated, George, it’s not just that I lost him, I got him _killed_ -’ 

George’s hand clasped his shoulder. ‘The Council of Thorns got him killed -’ 

‘No, no, you don’t understand, _nobody_ gets it, they found us because _I trusted her_ and he wouldn’t be _dead_ if I hadn’t been such a stupid, useless -’ 

‘Hey!’ Both hands came up, and now there was none of the joker in George’s eyes or demeanour, but the harsh, firm voice of a survivor. ‘They did it. Not you. You were his friend, you were his _brother_. And you _can_ survive this, but hiding out here doesn’t make it better, and I can promise you - I can bet you the next ten years of my profits - that your parents want to see you way, way more than they want to be angry with you.’ Albus hesitated, and a small smile tugged at George’s lips. ‘If James can get over being jealous of you enough to beg you to come back, I think your parents can forgive you. You didn’t do this, Al. The Council did this. But the more this goes on, the more this _is_ you hurting everyone. Including yourself.’ 

Albus couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do? Just walk up to the door and knock?’ 

_And pretend like it_ _’s not my fault, like I didn’t as good as kill him, like my stupid sense of honour didn’t hand him over to the Council and sign his death warrant…_

‘Yeah,’ said Uncle George, and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s easy. I’ll even give you a good knock-knock joke.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Białowieża Forest is a real place (like, my Polish is so non-existent I would not make up that name). It spans the borders of Poland and Belarus and is one of the largest ancient woodlands in Europe. I figured somewhere that vast and undisturbed would make for a pretty logical place for magical settlement, especially for the stereotypical ‘things which go bump in the night in Eastern Europe’ sort of environment._   
>    
> _I feel lost and forlorn without my lengthy, self-indulgent Author’s Notes on my butchery of history. It’s like we don’t talk any more, guys._


	3. Barren Ribs of Death

‘So when you were looking for a place to live, did you set up a contest for “most twee city in Britain”?’ John Colton stopped at the flower stand, blooming bright and colourful even on this drizzly October afternoon. ‘We’re at a _market_ , Matt. On cobbled streets with people wearing silly hats. Those shops over there have dangling signs. House which are all black-and-white…’ 

‘Timber framing.’ Matt tightened his scarf and tugged on his black gloves. Even at this time of year, Egypt had been warm. Returning to England was like plunging into a cold bath, and a fit of childish conviction that he was an adult had seen him throwing out all his old winter clothes and blowing a sizable chunk of the finder’s fee for Ranisonb’s tomb on a new wardrobe. He wasn’t a dandy. He just liked looking good. And there were some matters on which John wouldn’t judge him. ‘Besides, Cambridge is one of the oldest wizarding cities in the country -’ John arched an eyebrow, and he pressed forward. ‘I mean it! Before the Statute there was a significant magical community here.’ 

‘Hence why this part of town looks like Diagon Alley threw up all over it. I blame the university.’ 

‘Yes - University Hall originally had quite a lot of wizards in attendance, though of course as the Statute came in and the college changed… you don’t care.’ Matt threw a hand in the air. 

‘On the contrary. I grew up with this place as synonymous with intellectual excellence; it’s rather satisfying to know both my worlds colluded to create it. I’m more surprised _you_ care.’ 

‘I’m a Curse Breaker. History’s now my _profession_.’ 

His friend pulled his wide-brimmed hat low against the rain-scattered breeze as they stepped out of the row of stalls. The market had looked promising from the outside, but didn’t sell much more than flowers and fruit and veg and stands offering pig in a bun, and Matt realised that what was a quaint novelty to him was of very little excitement to his Muggle-born best friend. They were better off cutting this rather damp walk short and returning to the new flat. 

John wasn’t as tall as him, but was a little broader. He cultivated his body and looks more, from the black hair swept back from his face to accentuate dark eyes, high cheekbones, a small beard he’d had to grow into, to the somewhat foppish clothes he made sure he filled well; even to his cultured, upper-class tones. But after eight years of friendship, Matt knew to not take the flighty appearance of an uncaring dandy at face value. 

‘Your father’s a good egg for sorting this place out for you,’ John said as they left the broad square to proceed down slippery cobbled streets flanked by tall buildings so old Matt could almost smell the history. 

‘Dad’s gone a bit security mad. The moment he heard I was interested, he took the entire thing over. Checked the flat out, paid the deposit, got his own people in to soup it up. I can’t argue with him, though, can I, not when I _was_ attacked in Egypt.’ 

‘Does rather guarantee paranoia, doesn’t it. But I thought they were more vexed by your work, than after you _personally_.’ 

‘They were. But I’m not the one you need to convince.’ 

‘Either way, I’m certain Rose will like it.’ 

‘I hope so.’ 

John gave him a sidelong glance. ‘So everything’s hunky-dory with you two, I take it? Moving in together, hrm? Awfully serious.’ 

Matt drew a deep breath. He could read between his best friend’s lines. ‘I don’t need any more of this.’ 

John slowed a little, letting Matt lead the way as they reached a crossroads. This had the convenience, Matt observed, of letting John fall half a step behind so he couldn’t see his expression. ‘Any more of what?’ The innocence was not convincing. ‘All I’m ever doing is looking out for you, you _know_ that.’ 

‘We’ve been through this -’ 

‘Yes, except that was _then_ , and this is _now_ , and now you’re asking her to move in with her. Something that outrageous, I thought it would only be fair if I warned you.’ 

Matt stopped at the rain-slicked corner and turned back. ‘Warn me?’ 

John halted, too, and glanced around as if they were about to discuss deep, magical secrets - but this was a quiet road, the rain driving people, magic or Muggle, inside unless they had dire need to venture out, and it had certainly killed the market. ‘She’s changed.’ 

‘We’ve _all_ changed -’ 

‘Since you came back. Not from Egypt, from _everything._ You remember what she was like; it’s what made you so maddeningly mad about her. How she’d more-or-less _hum_ with enthusiasm and, well, a certain pompous self-importance, but she was growing out of that and she only berated me _sometimes_. Then Malfoy happened.’ John looked unusually serious, brow furrowed at Matt. 

‘Yes. She lost someone important to her.’ 

‘She lost more than him, Matt. She’s not the same person she was when you two were fifteen and stupid and, yes, God take me, happy.’ 

‘I never said she was! I’ve changed, too!’ 

John gave him a look Matt could read well. It said: _You poor fool_. ‘I still _recognise_ you. Rose, I hardly know at all, and I’ve been living with her the past two years, too.’ 

Matt squared his shoulders, stabbed an accusing finger. ‘Just because she’s different doesn’t mean this relationship doesn’t work -’ 

‘It appears to _work_ , I just worry if it _should_ ,’ said John, as airy and calm as ever, even in the face of frustration. ‘Or how long it will. She’s quieter, more withdrawn, more controlled, less _feeling_. And she clings to you like flotsam in a storm.’ 

‘I’m okay with that. I’ll support her. I’ll stand by her - I’ve done that _all along_.’ 

John’s gaze flickered to Matt’s hand. ‘Does she know about that?’ 

‘About what -’ 

‘About that ring, about why your father funds where you live, about the letters you write, about the trips you take which _aren_ _’t_ for Gringotts. Please don’t pretend _I_ _’m_ a fool as well, Matt, we don’t insult each other like that. But _she_ is singularly distracted.’ 

Matt’s jaw tensed. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with us.’ 

‘I’ll take that as a “no,” and if you don’t see a problem with keeping a vast and dangerous secret from your girlfriend then there’s honestly not much more I can say.’ John let out a slow breath. He didn’t seem frustrated, but considerate, like he knew he was going to have to reassess his strategy. ‘I should put this more simply. Do you love her?’ 

‘I do. I _always_ have.’ 

‘Well, yes, stupid question.’ Being a good friend, John didn’t comment on the melodrama. ‘Does she love you?’ 

Matt flinched as if struck. ‘She hasn’t - she needs time -’ 

‘It’s been two years; what were you waiting for, an ice age? And now you’re moving in together.’ John watched as Matt worked his jaw wordlessly, then took a step forward. ‘I know you, and I know where this is going; you’re going to hitch your star to hers until she goes supernova, and you’ll be a damned fool and _let_ the blast obliterate you.’ 

‘I really don’t need,’ Matt spat, ‘advice on women, _especially_ from _you_.’ 

That _did_ stop John short. His expression barely shifted except for the slightest raising of an eyebrow, and that’s how Matt knew he’d gone too far. ‘You need to remember that I’m trying to help you, even if you don’t like what I’ve got to say.’ 

Matt swallowed. ‘Look, I’m sorry, that’s not how I meant it -’ 

‘I got enough of those funny, funny jokes from Hedley and Willoughby last year, which you know _full_ well. You’re tired, you’re stressed, and you know I’m bloody well right. So I’ll let you get to your new home and wait for her. I just have one more thing to say.’ John took a step forward. ‘Is she where I think she is right now?’ 

‘John -’ 

‘I’ll take that as a yes. You better head off home, Matt. Before I actually get angry.’ 

He never raised his voice. That was what Matt remembered most, other than his own ill-considered words to the friend who had been so perpetually patient with him. But while John was slow to anger, Matt knew his fury was all the worse for it, and when he went cold like this he was _particularly_ upset. So Matt left, sloped down the slick cobbled streets of Cambridge, headed for the new flat. 

It was a stately, red-bricked building, the entire complex owned by wizards who kept interests in the city of Cambridge when the Statute had forced them to change their ways. Ivy crept around the trellised windows and door-frame, and he could see the window to the new flat, the one his father had ensured with professional diligence was warded and secure beyond anything the Council of Thorns could easily throw at him. 

It was pretty, and so was Cambridge, but Matt realised with a sinking feeling that this was not why he’d selected it. As he’d read more, he’d found the history interesting, but he was a Curse Breaker. He _always_ found history interesting. There were all manner of places in the country he could have lived, and if he were alone, he wouldn’t have minded staying at his parents’ house while his work continued to fling him about the globe. It meant he’d have somewhere warm to come back to. 

But he’d wanted a space with Rose. And so he’d chosen somewhere he’d thought _she’d_ like. 

The problem was, he was less sure these days what she even liked.

* * 

After his death, there had been a debate whether Methuselah Jones should be buried at Hogwarts. It would have made him the first student to be buried on the grounds. Many had been slain there in the wars, but Methuselah Jones had consciously and willingly sacrificed himself for the sake of the school and everyone in it. But before the arguments could swing too far either way, his parents had made different arrangements to avoid any conflict, and so he was laid to rest near Glastonbury, in one of the oldest magical cemeteries in the country. 

His was a simple tombstone, devoid of intricate decoration, because a boy like Methuselah Jones was never going to be from a family prone to ostentatious displays. But after almost three years, the granite was worn and weathered, especially on a day like today, when the wind howled in from the tor and the rain lashed at her face. 

Rose lingered by his grave, like she always did. He deserved her respects, her tribute, even if he was not the reason she was here. Even if she had never been close to Methuselah, even if she’d only shed tears once in shock and horror and then squared her shoulders and moved on with her life. At the least, she could pay him her respects for the sake of Selena, whose world _had_ been turned upside-down by his death. 

_But she righted it. So it can be done. Can_ _’t it?_   
  
She lingered because Methuselah deserved it, she lingered because he had been her friend, and she lingered because his death had shaken those close to her. But above all, she lingered because it delayed those agonising moments where she’d take three brisk steps to the left, to the next tombstone. 

This was not a grave. A grave required a body, and there had been no body. This was only a marker, a memorial, a fabrication so they could _pretend_ there was something to see, to say goodbye to, to pay their respects to. She might as well have hammered a piece of paper to her wall bearing the name, for all this block of stone was worth. 

Such a marker was the price they’d paid for being able to see it at all, for it not being nestled away in a corner of the grounds of Malfoy Manor, where only the ‘right’ people could see it. She, the half-blood daughter of his father’s enemies, would have never been the ‘right’ person, and the fact that Scorpius would have burnt down the Manor before she was stopped from seeing him would not have mattered one jot to Draco Malfoy. 

It was more ostentatious, of course, because his father had paid for it. Twin snakes carved in granite wound together at the top of the marker, bracketing and protecting this memorial to their fallen son, above whose name was the family sigil and the words, _‘Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.’_   
  
_Purity Will Always Conquer._

But she didn’t reflect long on the Latin, because her gaze landed on the name, the name that sent a shattering hammer blow into the walls around her pain every time she saw it, heard it, thought of it.

  
_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy._

  
_November 19th, 2006 - June 12th, 2024_

The wind howled down from the tor again, and brought with it a gust of leaves from the cemetery’s trees that scraped along the rows of tombstones like the grasping fingers of the dead, ardent to be heard one more time. Except that was just her imagination, because the only one who could do the talking here was her. 

‘Hi,’ she breathed, and her voice felt for the first time in months like _hers_. ‘I’m sorry I’ve not been around. I was - there was work. Egypt. With Gringotts. It took a while. And the Council were there, and - I’m okay, we’re okay. We beat them. Of course.’ 

Scorpius’ tombstone said nothing. 

‘It’s tough work, and they don’t take us seriously yet, but they’re going to. And I like it. The work, I mean. It keeps me busy, it’s not uninteresting, and I feel useful. I need to feel useful. I need to _be_ useful. Maybe it’s not my first choice of job, but it’s as good as anything and it’s familiar ground and I -’ 

The excuses stuck in her throat, and she could almost imagine the quirked eyebrow, the amused lip-twitch at her evasion. Only in her mind’s eye there was a hint of accusation, and she couldn’t look at his name now, wrapping her arms around herself and dropping her gaze. ‘Matt asked me to live with him. I’m moving in. We’re - it’s going well. He’s patient. He listens. He gives me space. He’s letting me work through this. He wants me to be better, and I - and I want to be better. 

‘I mean it.’ Her gaze flickered back to the tombstone as if it scoffed at her words. ‘I can be happy with him. I can be myself. He doesn’t judge me, he doesn’t push me.’ 

_And that_ _’s a good basis for a relationship._   
  
‘What else am I supposed to do?’ she demanded of the silent, judging lump of rock. ‘Keep on walking around like I’m cut in half? At least I’m not Al! I’m not still _running_ and hurting the people I care about! I’m doing the best I can but you’re not _here_ , so what the _hell_ am I supposed to do except try to get on with my _life_?’ 

She’d thought she was done shouting at the tombstone, but she hadn’t visited in months, since just before she and Matt left for Egypt. She’d thought getting away from Hogwarts, from her old life, might do some good. She’d been able to steel herself, reform herself into something more professional, more in control. 

Only everything had been waiting for her when she came back. 

_No. You_ _’re better than this. You’ve_ ** _been_** _better than this for months now, **find** that_. Rose drew a deep breath, brought in all the ice in the cold winds around her, and scrambled to rebuild those walls which no longer just kept the world at bay, but filled her bones and heart to keep her upright. 

‘I have no choice,’ she told the tombstone of Scorpius Malfoy. ‘I have to live. I, unlike Al, choose to live. And I refuse to feel guilty for living. You’re dead. You’re gone. And I… need to stop coming back here to justify myself to a lump of rock.’ That springy lock of hair had lunged its way free in the tugging grasp of the wind, and, expression setting, she tucked it back into her plait. ‘I’m moving in with Matt. I’m moving on with my life. And I think it’s best I stop coming back here, because this is _wallowing_ as certainly as Albus’ running is wallowing. And I refuse to wallow.’ 

She took one step forward, reached out a hand that was, for once, steady, and brushed her fingertips against the carving of his name. ‘Goodbye, Scorpius.’ 

She left with the words still tingling on her lips, and locked the quaver in her voice away with the quaver in her heart, behind the walls she’d so diligently built up for two years and refused to see undone by five minutes in a cemetery. 

The wrought-iron gates were warded to shroud the site from view and attention of nearby Muggles, so saturated by the inherent magic of the region that after a thousand years they barely needed maintaining. But those protections meant she couldn’t Apparate directly from the grounds, so there she headed, coat wrapped around herself as if she could ward off the cold just as effectively as she was warding off the grief. 

The rain and wind made her keep her head down, so she didn’t see the other visitor until she’d almost walked into them. And then she wished she’d had enough warning to dive behind a mausoleum, stopping short with surprise choking her throat until she managed a stifled, ‘Mister Malfoy.’ 

She had not seen Draco Malfoy since the initial dedication of the tombstone, and they had not talked. The crowds had been large, because the press had sensationalised Scorpius even more after his death, to the extent the rest of the Hogwarts Five might as well have not existed - for which Rose was grateful, as without Albus around she knew she, the daughter of war heroes, would have received the lion’s share of attention. They had stood at opposite sides of the ranks, Draco next to his estranged wife and his mother and further cohorts of the extensive ranks of pureblood society who came because a scion of the House of Malfoy had fallen. 

Across from him, flanked by her mother and Matt, she hadn’t paid him much attention. But she’d seen enough to now realise he’d aged maybe ten years in the last two, his hairline in full retreat, his face gaunt and eyes sunken. He had not just lost a son, but the continuation of his line, and what little attention she’d paid to mentions of him over the last two years, four months, had suggested he’d spent most of the time out of the country, worrying about his business interests. 

And now he was here, and looked no happier to see her than she was him. ‘Miss Weasley.’ He managed a stiff nod. ‘I presume you were paying your respects.’ 

‘I - just got back from Egypt.’ Why she was explaining herself to a man who had been nothing but rude to her, she wasn’t sure. Courtesies drilled in by her mother rose to the forefront in times of uncertainty. ‘I thought it appropriate, one last time.’ 

Something in his expression twitched. ‘Last?’ 

She swallowed. ‘It’s been so long that regular visits aren’t… so necessary.’ 

She would have sworn he relaxed. ‘I see. You have that luxury, of course.’ 

_Luxury-_ Indignation was walled up with grief and guilt, and the ice set her expression to neutral. ‘This is not a grave, but a memorial. I don’t need it to remember him.’ 

Draco inclined his head. ‘As you say. Your life goes on.’ 

Rose didn’t care about the contradiction of resenting his accusation that she was moving on, when she’d just yelled at Scorpius’ tombstone that she was moving on. ‘We have our own ways, Mister Malfoy. This tombstone is, of course, your way, because he would never have approved of such a memorial.’ 

Draco’s brow knotted. ‘He was my son -’ 

‘ _Purity Will Always Conquer_? You think those are words he would want stamped above his name for all eternity?’ 

‘You can choose to believe you knew him better because of a short, childish tryst, but my son would have remembered his duty -’ 

‘His _duty_ was to his friends, and the world, and _that_ was the duty he died for, Mister Malfoy. Not for you. One olive branch extended before his death isn’t his _forgiveness_ for what you did to him over the years, and I _know_ what you did to him, I _helped_ him through that crippling self-doubt!’ She kept a tight rein on the anger, harnessed it like she’d learnt to over the years, and could not stamp out the flash of satisfaction at getting to unleash it. 

And then Draco Malfoy’s face sank as she battered him with all of his sins against his dead son, and satisfaction snapped back like a snake to sink its vicious fangs of guilt into her gut. He did not retaliate. He did not defend himself. He simply inclined his head once again and said, in a gruff voice, ‘Good day, Miss Weasley.’ 

Then he left, marching through the wrought-iron gates in the depths of the cemetery, though he took a sharp left instead of the route to Scorpius’ tombstone, walking off anger and hurt before he would pay his regards. 

Rose’s breath hissed between her teeth, furious and regretful and then furious that she was regretful. But there was nothing for it. She didn’t want to discuss this further, and she needed to go, Apparate to Cambridge, spend her first proper evening in this _home_ Matt was trying to build for them, and let his efforts pay off for them both. Two years had passed. _Somebody_ needed to be happy. 

She just wasn’t sure if anyone was.

* * 

‘Victory is mine, and all should pay tribute of at least one delicious cupcake,’ Selena Rourke crooned as she walked through the main office of the _Clarion_. Jealous gazes of lesser journalists were dismissed with a wave of the hand brandishing her blazing, condemning papers, for they were not worth her time. Despite her march of triumph, there was only one person she _really_ needed to talk to. 

The editor’s door was pushed open with much fanfare and no knocking. But she was the star of the moment. He could make time. ‘Oh, _Toby_ …’ 

Tobias Grey, editor of the _Clarion_ , thinned his lips as he killed a Floo conversation mid-sentence to regard one of his newest hirelings. ‘Selena. You know, traditionally, junior reporters - in fact, anyone - doesn’t barge into the editor’s office…’ 

‘I am unbound by tradition. I am a storm of success and hard-hitting journalism.’ She waltzed to his desk and tossed the papers down. ‘Also, I know you were only on the Floo to your wife, and I figured you’d want to see this.’ 

Grumbling, Tobias went to his desk and picked up the stack. ‘I told you before. I need something _utterly_ condemning before I can put in print those accusations against Pudley Limited.’ 

Selena lifted a mock-ponderous finger to her lips. ‘Oh. Yes. How about three separate sources confirming bribes were paid to the customs officers in Italy, corroborated by some _very_ dubious shiftings about their finances?’ 

The frown fled her boss’s face, and he nudged his glasses up his nose, eyes brightening with genuine interest now. ‘You got to the accountant?’ 

‘I got to the accountant’s incredibly bored assistant. We went shopping. In _Milan_. I’m putting the expenses through to you.’ She sank onto the hard-backed chair across from his. ‘I admit that I don’t know what it means, but Pudley Limited have been opening up all sorts of curious warehouse spaces off the books and bribing customs officials to get _something_ into the country.’ 

‘And in bulk, too.’ Tobias rifled through the papers. ‘There’s not a whiff of what?’ 

‘Unfortunately, disgruntled customs officials and an accountant’s assistant know about unmarked boxes and money passing through the hands of people it shouldn’t. It’s harder to get solid facts on the hows and the whats.’ 

‘It is.’ The editor of the _Clarion_ was a tall, distinguished-looking wizard, blond hair going grey at the temples, sharp features weathering from age, though he gave off the air of an exuberant, distracted academic when presented with some sort of intellectual puzzle. ‘Which is why I can’t publish this yet.’ 

Selena sat up like a shot, hands planting on the desk. ‘Toby, this is my big break -’ 

‘No, right now, this is some accusations without conclusions. If I publish this right now, then Pudley Limited deny everything, and _hide_ whatever it is they’ve been smuggling before we, or the Italian or British authorities, can find out what they’re up to.’ 

‘Bad things! Bribing customs officials isn’t enough?’ 

‘I want to know _why_ they’re bribing them.’ Tobias lifted a hand to forestall the flow of blonde fury in killer heels. ‘This isn’t a “no,” Selena, it’s a “not yet.” Find me what they’re smuggling. And this will be an even _bigger_ coup for you, I promise.’ 

Selena wrinkled her nose. ‘I just got _back_ from Milan -’ 

‘Which is awfully close to Venice, the magical transportation hub of Europe. Curious, isn’t it, that they’re importing something in bulk so close to the one location on the continent where they could move something across the globe in hours?’ He tilted his head down, looked at her over his glasses. ‘You can do the legwork on their British offices. It’s originating from here, after all.’ 

The papers were extended to her, and with a sigh she took them. ‘Alright. But I want an advance for this. This is _publishable_ , even if it’s not a fizzing wand yet.’ 

Tobias’s lips twitched. ‘How about I process your expenses requests from Milan and we call it even?’ 

She stopped at that. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’ 

‘You’re doing well, Selena. Really. This is good stuff, but it can be better. With time, your instincts will lead you to these conclusions for yourself. I really didn’t figure this was going to spiral into something this big, or I wouldn’t have given it to a green reporter like you… but you’re proving yourself.’ 

‘Weren’t you my age when you were writing angry articles about Voldemort from exile?’ 

‘And it almost got me killed, so I’m going to make sure, in an age of the Council of Thorns’ machinations, that none of _my_ reporters walk the same road.’ 

Selena’s gaze flickered to Tobias’ leg, injured by Death Eaters in the Second War and never the same since. Today he walked stiffly, but more or less fine. Still, he took stairs one at a time, on bad days needed a cane, and she knew pain-subduing potions sat in a cabinet by the wall. 

_Some scars never go away._   
  
‘There’s more,’ said Tobias, and her eyes snapped up to his as if she hadn’t been gawping. The look on his face made it clear he knew, and she wondered if he got used to it after over twenty-five years. ‘I did a little looking into the British side of Pudley while you were gone. About eight months ago, their director lost control of majority shares of the company. Now there’s no one majority shareholder, but there’s a _lot_ of cooperation between this new half-dozen or so names.’ 

‘You think they might be behind Pudley’s new illicit activities?’ 

‘Possibly. But I also want you to take a look at these companies.’ He handed over a fresh sheet of parchment. ‘Some are British, some aren’t, but they all underwent similar takeovers at around the same time. Some hostile, some not, but whoever was calling the shots before _isn_ _’t_ calling the shots any more.’ 

Selena’s eyes flashed. ‘A smuggling network across multiple companies -’ 

‘You’re getting ahead of yourself.’ He lifted a hand. ‘Let the evidence lead you. And focus on Pudley most of all, but if you see anything which links in with these other names… bear this in mind.’ 

‘I will.’ She got to her feet, clutching the parchment, and only then did the tremendous responsibility he’d tossed to her sink in. ‘I know you only took me on to do some societies events -’ 

‘That’s what you _applied_ for, and I won’t lie, I thought your name would open doors for you.’ Tobias gave a wry smile. ‘ _You_ _’re_ the one who chose to chase up a spot of gossip at that gala and stumbled onto this. But if you enjoy reporting of more substance -’ 

‘There’s nothing insubstantial about society events.’ Selena stuck her nose in the air. ‘After all, it’s about the _people_ who do these kinds of things, isn’t it? All of this, all of what we do. It boils down to people.’ 

His smile remained. ‘We’ll see how this story goes. And then we’ll talk about your future with the _Clarion_ , hm?’ 

She returned the smile, for once genuine and pleased, for once feeling like a teenager with a cool prospect before her instead of a woman wrestling hydras of disaster and death. ‘Yes, Mister Grey.’ It never hurt to be formal when she was in the mood for gratitude. ‘Thank you, Mister Grey.’ 

Tobias nodded, and waved a hand at the door. ‘You’re welcome. Now go get your cupcake tribute.’ 

The bullpen gave her curious looks as she returned, still holding the papers. Somewhere in a corner someone snickered, assuming her alleged triumph had failed. Selena ignored them. Her rocket ship to the top was still loaded with fuel. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered to her desk, sat in a corner as befit someone of her junior status. It was near enough to the coffee machine to be disturbed by its choking sputtering and periodic explosions, not so near as to be able to lean over to anyone getting a drink and go, ‘Ooh, get me a refill.’ 

In her absence, her desk had been turned into the tip. Anything nobody wanted to deal with was dumped here, any paperwork anyone wanted to hide. So, the heady glow of the rocket ship fading from her mind’s eye, she slung her bag - Milanese - by the table and set about tidying. Or, more accurately, consigning everything that looked boring to the bin. 

Back issues, memos, long-lost interview notes; it was all here. Selena paused only for a moment to scrutinise a loose fifth page from a months-old _Clarion_ which announced the long-overdue marriage of former Quidditch star Caldwyn Brynmor and once-hero of the Phlegethon crisis Nathalie Lockett. ‘Wasn’t this six months ago?’ 

The very bored eyes of Jemima Carnihan, junior office assistant and the only person at the _Clarion_ less important than Selena, lifted from her copy of _Witch Weekly_. ‘What?’ 

‘The wedding.’ 

‘Oh.’ Jemima might have strained something if she tried to care less. ‘I guess? Who cares? Has-been Quidditch star and washed-up Potioneer.’ 

‘Has-been Potioneer who saved Hogwarts.’ Selena pursed her lips. She wasn’t used to defending Nat Lockett. She was used to pointing out why everyone shouldn’t be _worshipping_ her. But hearing her efforts dismissed by some random girl was a reminder that her former Potions Professor _had_ won the Order of Merlin for a reason. 

_And then disappeared off the face of the planet when everything went south with Scorpius._ Nobody had thought much about it, or at least, nobody of Selena’s acquaintance. It wasn’t that Lockett’s disappearance wasn’t a cause for concern, but everyone had been too caught up in their own issues. When Lockett had re-emerged some eight months ago, she hadn’t bothered to get in touch. Her disappearance was a concern for her fiancé and family, and if she’d sorted it out and _finally_ got hitched, then all Selena could think was, ‘good for her.’ 

‘Never mind.’ Selena tossed the paper down and judiciously shoved the rest of the stack into the bin. ‘Jemima. Catch me up. On _everything_.’ 

Jemima paused like a mouse with one paw on the trap. ‘Which everything? Office gossip?’ 

‘Has there _been_ any office gossip? Our boss doesn’t sleep with his assistant; which sounds like a waste of a perfectly good assistant.’ 

‘I see Milan did you good.’ Jemima sighed. ‘Er, Robert and Roberta broke up…’ 

‘Is that because they realised it was creepy for two people with such similar names to be a couple?’ Selena waved a hand. ‘Never mind. Real politics. I’ve been in Italy for weeks -’ 

‘We know, you keep telling us -’ 

‘So what’s been going on in Britain?’ 

Jemima gave her copy of _Witch Weekly_ a forlorn look. ‘Minister Halvard has been re-establishing control of the Department of Magical Transportation and loosening up regulations on transport…’ 

‘Riveting.’ 

‘…and then facing opposition from the MLE because of concerns about security. Which is making the DIMC throw strops because they need to set new guidelines on travel… doesn’t your Mum tell you all this?’ 

‘She writes.’ Selena admired her empty desk, and set her papers from Tobias to the side. ‘I can’t lie, I assume her complaints about the Ministry are the same as they’ve been. She’s _always_ called the office of the Minister an incompetent and inefficient system of government.’ 

‘Interestingly, more people seem to think that way. Polls came in the other day. Your mother’s approval ratings are rocketing sky-high.’ 

‘Of course they are, she doesn’t have to _do_ anything, and people can go right back to blaming the Ministry of Magic for everything which goes wrong -’ 

‘No, no. The public thinks the International Magical Convocation was efficient, more efficient than anything they knew from the Ministry. With Minister Halvard’s restoration of power as the IMC’s drawn back its sweeping authority, the public’s been reminded of how much the Ministry bickers, politicks, gets _nothing_ done. They’re already sick of it.’ 

_And here I thought it was just Mum_ _’s bellyaching._ But before Selena could comment, Jemima clicked her fingers and rustled about for a folded letter. ‘Oh, I forgot. This came in for you this morning. I rescued it from the pile.’ 

Selena’s heart sank as she recognised the handwriting, but she kept her expression schooled as she broke the seal and read the contents. 

_Selena,_   
  
_Heard you_ _’re back in the country. Rose and I just got back ourselves. Funny how these things work out, isn’t it? I thought it might be nice if we got a drink some time. Caught up. You can tell me all about Milan, and I’ll make sure to only tell you the interesting bits about Egypt._   
  
_Thinks about it? It_ _’s been a while._   
  
_\- Matt_   
  
‘Jemima,’ said Selena, brow ponderous as she lifted her wand and set fire to the letter. ‘You’re actually quite good with politics, aren’t you?’ 

Jemima looked from the burning letter to her. ‘Um. I’m just here to do the coffee and the paperwork and then I get time to read _Witch Weekly_ -’ 

‘Yes, but that’s not why you got this job, is it.’ 

‘I don’t want to be a reporter. I hate writing.’ 

‘But you like _nosying_ , and you get people, and you get politics.’ Selena glanced over at her. Jemima was small and she was pretty and she liked brightly-coloured nail varnish, and even though Selena didn’t entirely approve of that shade of lipstick and those earrings, not everyone could be blessed with her impeccable fashion-sense. The fact remained that anyone would take one look at Jemima and assume they had her figured out, from blonde highlights to religiously-followed _Witch Weekly_. ‘I need someone to help me nosy.’ 

Jemima watched the final scraps of the letter turn to ash which was brushed into the bin without another thought. ‘Um…’ 

‘Or you can go back to making tea for Roberta while she weeps about how she’d picked out a wedding dress even though they’d only been together three months, and you’ll have no idea what to say to something that crazy and creepy.’ 

Jemima sighed. ‘Alright. The boss got you something?’ 

Selena fanned out the paperwork and smiled. She’d need some help for the leg-work, and if she could give Jemima a makeover of her fashion as well as her career prospects, then so much the better. 

And under no circumstances did she have to think about a boy named Matthias Doyle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I've been over it a thousand times and I bet I've still got the dates wrong on Scorpius' birth and death._


	4. Trouble of the Rain

‘Do you want me here with you?’ asked George, the two of them stood before the Potter family home in Godric Hollow. 

Albus drew a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yeah. It might stop Dad from killing me.’ 

‘He’s not going to kill you. He might shout. He’s _really good_ at that, but he gets over it.’ George nodded at the door. ‘You knock. It’s that simple. I’m not actually giving you a joke.’ 

A muscle in the corner of Albus’ jaw twitched. ‘I could really do with one.’ 

‘I’m a professional purveyor of magical entertainment, not a street-magician with -’ 

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Albus muttered, and slammed the door-knocker to drown out George’s ramblings. But there was a tight smile on his uncle’s lips, and he suspected George knew what he was thinking: he’d been reminded of Scorpius’ antics, just for a moment. And even though his throat was dry as the desert, his palms sweating, for once the reminder wasn’t a punch to the gut, because it brought with it the memory of a smile. 

But after all that, there was no answer. The knock echoed through the house, Albus chewed on the inside of his lip so hard he knew he’d get an ulcer when this was done, and the two men waited in taut silence for twenty seconds. Forty. A minute. 

‘Did you do it right?’ 

‘It’s a door-knocker,’ said Al. ‘How do you do it _wrong_?’ 

George frowned and bashed the knocker for himself, to no avail. ‘Where the bloody hell are they?’ 

‘Work?’ 

‘It’s a Sunday -’ Realisation dawned. ‘Oh. There’s only one place they might be on a Sunday if they’re not at home, isn’t there.’ 

Albus rounded on him. ‘ _No_ -’ 

‘It’s perfect!’ 

‘We are not going to the Burrow! Everyone will be there!’ 

‘Not _everyone_ , because I wasn’t invited. If your Mum and Dad have gone, then I bet it’ll be with Teddy and Victoire, _maybe_ Bill and Fleur. _I_ think it’s perfect. Your Gran will go ballistic and she won’t let it turn into a row, and by the time your Dad has the chance to get pissy, lunch will be over and he’ll have gotten over it.’ George tugged on his sleeve. ‘And _I_ get fed. Come on.’ 

Summer had wept golden tears of grief at its own demise all over Godric’s Hollow. Dead leaves dragged up and down the road like kids chasing the ball in street football, and the mere sight of home at the threat of winter started to warm something small and afraid in Albus’ heart. He’d spent his first Christmas away from home in Australia, thinking the warmth might stop it from hurting so badly, haunted by the ghost of the year before - of that huge feast in the Great Hall of Hogwarts with the five of them together and a glimmer of proper happiness and hope. Last year he’d been in Alaska, and wondered if he could freeze with the ice and snow. 

He had not looked forward to a third. But neither did he relish the prospect before him. 

_You did this. To Scorpius, to your parents_ _…_   
  
Then George was Disapparating them and there they were a cracking heartbeat later, at the rickety wooden gate before the Burrow. The cold wind was cut off by the steep hills and trees that sheltered the ramshackle house from the eyes of the Muggles of Ottery St. Catchpole, but the chimney puffed away merrily and lights glimmered from inside, and so he was under no illusions. Outside was the cold, and inside, where his family waited with all the hurt he’d inflicted on them, was the warmth. 

George grabbed him by the sleeve and jerked him, still disoriented from the Apparition, into the front garden. Before Albus could complain or pull himself free, George called out in a loud, clear voice, ‘I hope you’ve got space for two more!’ 

‘What -’ Albus yanked his sleeve back, frozen on the gravel path, and clutched the shoulder-strap of his bag with whitening knuckles. 

‘I thought you might run,’ said George, unapologetic. ‘This is a _much_ better -’ Then the front door of the Burrow swung open so hard it was almost knocked off its hinges, and Albus’ breath caught as he saw his mother. 

She looked paler and older and more worn, or so he thought, and he knew that had to come from two years of not knowing where in the world her son was. He took a step back before he could stop himself, felt every muscle coiling in a fight-or-flight reflex, and his dried throat closed up. 

‘Albus?’ Ginny’s voice quavered as she trudged onto the gravel path, cautious like he was made of glass that might shatter if she rushed. 

George took one look between them and blurted out, ‘Look what I found!’ 

‘Well, not just him,’ Albus says in a rushing mumble. ‘But I got the wedding invitation and I spoke to Uncle George and then I thought - I mean, you weren’t at home so we came here and I can - I don’t want to interrupt your -’ 

But he was cut off by a muffled sob escaping Ginny’s throat, and she hurled herself at him, a red-haired blur of upset and hugging. He’d felt like his shoulders were made of stone, tense and carrying such burdens, and though his mother pulling him into a warm embrace wasn’t enough to undo that, he felt the impact chip away. It took all he had to not collapse there and then, to just bury his face in his mother’s shoulder - no mean feat since he was, these days, so much taller than her - and grit his teeth against the wave of rising emotion. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was muffled by control, guilt, her jumper, and it was probably for the best this stopped him from saying more. 

The next minutes passed in a rushing blur. Ginny didn’t let go of him easily, not even when Grandma Molly showed up and joined in the enormous pile-up, and for long, thunderous seconds all Albus knew was that there were people who desperately wanted, _needed_ him back, and it was almost, almost enough to fight back the fear. It kept him going long enough for him to untangle himself from his mother and grandmother and be corralled into the house to shake Granddad Arthur’s hand, get a clap on the shoulder from Teddy, a less-tearful but still tight hug from Victoire, while in the background George was assaulted just as much by the Weasley matriarchs. 

So he didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to panic, didn’t have time to consider bolting until Victoire faded from in front of him and then there was his father, looking as paralysed as Albus had felt at the sight of Ginny. 

He realised this was the moment he’d feared the most. Because Harry Potter had saved the world from Voldemort and never broke, and if ever there was proof Albus was just _playing_ at hero then surely running scared after taking a hit was it. If anything made him a failure - 

‘Dad, I -’ 

Harry Potter crossed the distance to pull him into a backslapping embrace, and for the first time in over two years, Al thought that maybe everything would be alright, after all. 

‘James - you should thank James,’ Albus managed to choke once they’d broken apart, everyone swarming around him. ‘He was the one who found me, he got me the invitation…’ 

He waved a hand at Teddy, who _beamed_ , but George gave a sniff of mock-indignation. ‘Scions of the Potter brood taking credit for my deeds, _again_ …’ 

‘Oh, _George_ , don’t be like that -’ Molly swatted his arm and dabbed back tears. ‘Everyone should sit down, there’s _more_ than enough dinner for everyone and we can catch up.’ 

‘Roast beef sounds like a good reward for a good deed…’ 

If he’d been less frazzled and tense, Albus might have put more thought into the fact that even when he and George were sat at the dinner table, there were two empty places. But food wasn’t ready yet, and Arthur cracked open some good Muggle ales he’d been harbouring for a special occasion. Flanked by his parents, across from Teddy, Albus found himself beset by innocuous updates and yammering about the wedding as everyone took great pains to bring him up to speed while neither prying into _his_ adventures or making it seem contrived, and he was satisfied to listen until there was a fresh knock at the door. 

That, he gave no thought, as Victoire and Teddy were mid-anecdote about wedding cake shopping, and the innate barbarism of making the animated figurines atop the cake edible, which ran the risk of making the reception end in a brutal blood sport. So it was only when Arthur returned from letting in the latest arrivals with a jovial explosion of, ‘And look who’s here!’ that he glanced to the door. 

Matt was helping Rose out of her coat, and all three of them froze - but it was Matt who rallied first, with a nervous but certainly pleased grin. ‘Al!’ 

But his hand came to Rose’s shoulder in a gesture Albus couldn’t possibly mistake, and his spine was like granite once more as he got to his feet. ‘Rose. Matt.’ 

Rose worked her lips wordlessly for thudding heartbeats as everyone fell to silence. ‘When - when did you get back?’ 

‘Just now. I didn’t know you’d be here.’ Albus looked up and down the crowded table with the now-apprehensive eyes of their extended family. ‘I should - I’m crowding in here, I bet Ron and Hermione are coming, too -’ 

Molly almost dropped a cooking pot. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Two more mouths is nothing at this rate -’ 

‘And _I_ can go,’ said George, and Albus felt a ridiculous wave of affection for his uncle, so willing to sacrifice one of his mother’s legendary Sunday roasts on his behalf. 

‘This is family,’ Matt blurted, hand dropping from Rose’s shoulder. ‘If _anyone_ should go -’ 

‘Nobody,’ exclaimed Molly, ‘is going! And you’re _certainly_ not, Matthias, you know you’re always welcome here.’ 

Rose coloured at that, eyes not moving off Albus, and when she spoke again her voice was hoarse. ‘Where’ve you been?’ 

She might have meant it as a casual conversation-starter. It still came with a stab in Albus’ gut. ‘Lots of places,’ he said, not taking his seat again. ‘I’ve been busy. And I can see you’ve been, too.’ 

Matt winced. ‘Er -’ 

‘Gringotts,’ said Rose, cutting him off. ‘Curse Breakers.’ 

‘I hear. Both of you.’ 

George leaned towards Teddy, eyes frantic. ‘Teddy! _I_ think you should make the cake figurines edible but also _flying_.’ 

Victoire gave him a look despairing both at his interruption and his suggestion. ‘That’s going to make a small child cry when they escape,’ she pointed out. ‘And then I’ll blame you.’ 

‘You’ll be too loved-up to be angry -’ 

‘We had a lot of time at Hogwarts to think about what we wanted to do,’ Rose was saying, her chin tilting up that familiar, defiant half-inch. ‘It was a decision a long time coming.’ 

Albus’ gaze flickered between her and Matt, who looked like he wished he were somewhere else. ‘Yeah.’ His throat grated. ‘You two clearly took your time.’ 

The table fell silent. Rose narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 

Matt slowly, deliberately, put Rose’s coat down on the nearest armchair, and took a step towards the door. ‘I’m going to -’ 

‘How long was the _bloody_ grieving period?’ Albus hadn’t expected this anger. It had bubbled inside him on some level since James had mentioned Rose and Matt were working together. The suspicion had worked away only to be confirmed now, and with it came blossoming resentment mixed in with his guilt. She’d _begged_ him to stay, only to forget about Scorpius and then got on with her life while he wouldn’t, _couldn_ _’t_ … 

Her eyes flashed. ‘How would _you_ know? You weren’t _here_.’ 

Matt pulled his coat back on. ‘I’m leaving you to this. Molly, thank you very much for inviting me.’ 

Rose at last looked at him. ‘Matt -’ 

‘This is a family affair,’ said Matt in a low, tight voice as he turned his collar up against the impending wind and rain, ‘and I _don_ _’t_ need to be here for you two to have an argument about _him_!’ 

Molly had looked like she was going to try to stop Matt, but at that last she fell into the same stunned silence as the rest. Rose lifted a hand but couldn’t summon words before he’d stormed to the door, taking great care to _not_ slam it behind him. She whirled on Albus, eyes flashing. ‘You don’t get to judge me for how _I_ coped -’ 

‘Enough!’ The snap, at last, came from Harry, roaring to his feet with his hands slamming on the table. _That_ made everyone jump, including Rose, and Albus’ eyes swept to his father with the cringing instinct that came whenever an authority figure was angry with him. It didn’t happen often. He wasn’t used to it. 

Harry’s eyes dragged across the table before landing on them. ‘This family,’ he said, voice lowering, ‘has been broken up for a long time. You two went through so much, and _this_ is how you’re reunited? Is this really how you _want_ this moment to be remembered?’ 

Albus found his feet taking a catapulting step to the door. ‘I can -’ 

‘Al.’ His father’s voice softened. ‘Please, don’t.’ 

Albus was facing away from the table, and knew when his eyes slammed shut that the only person who could see his expression was Rose. He’d started this, he’d jumped down her throat, and it was as much from _jealousy_ as it was rage. But _he_ _’d_ ruined this reunion. Still, his father’s words made him stop, though his shoulders squared and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but take a shuddering breath to try to steel himself. 

Rose was staring at her feet when he turned around to face the dining table, and he couldn’t look at her. ‘Mum. Dad. Maybe we should go home?’ Albus said. ‘Talk properly. This was maybe a bit… much, to drop on everyone.’ 

Harry hesitated, but he and Ginny exchanged glances and then he nodded and turned to his mother-in-law. ‘Molly, thank you, but we’ll… we’ll do this next week?’ 

And then there was a renewed array of crushing hugs and back-slaps and hand-shakes, and that at least killed the awkward hum in the air and took some of the edge off Albus’ apprehension. But all the while, through the tearful farewells from his grandmother, and the reassuring smiles from Teddy and George, he still couldn’t look at Rose, and the two of them parted, once again, without a word.

* * 

Selena arched an eyebrow when she saw the drenched figure sat on her doorstep. ‘I thought not replying to your note was pretty self-explanatory.’ 

It was raining hard in London. She’d brought an umbrella, but Matt’s coat hadn’t protected him from doing a drowned rat impression, the fabric sodden, his hair plastered against his sunken, drawn face. When he got to his feet without an iota of a defensive, plaintive air about him, she realised something was up. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, voice a low, strained mumble. ‘I know I don’t deserve this.’ 

Selena headed to the door and extended the umbrella so it covered them both. Not that this was worth much considering how sodden he already was. ‘What’s happened?’ _Did you and Rose finally explode into that unhealthy fireball that_ _’s been in the making since you got together?_   
  
‘Albus is back,’ said Matt. 

It was not the reply she’d expected. ‘ _Back_?’ 

‘We went for Sunday dinner at her Gran’s. He was there. Looks like it was unexpected for everyone.’ He stared at her front door. She wasn’t about to open it. ‘They rowed, of course.’ 

‘Of course. Two years apart and the first thing they have to do is have a blow-out. I _assume_ about Scorpius?’ 

‘About Albus abandoning her.’ Matt’s gaze tensed. ‘And then he implied me and her wasted no time getting together -’ 

Selena’s throat tensed. ‘Why did you come to me? Why not John?’ 

‘I don’t know. You always understood it the most. And John and I argued.’ 

Selena swallowed undiplomatic words, then remembered she didn’t give a damn. ‘Gee, about the fact that your relationship is a horrible, unhealthy rebound that’s fucking doomed, and you refuse to see it?’ 

Matt took a step back like he’d been beaten about the face with a second hammer. ‘I didn’t - Rose and I -’ 

‘You know what’s going on, Matt!’ Selena jerked her umbrella back. He didn’t deserve it. ‘This has been going on for months; you didn’t just support her, you waited and you _chased_ her! You two only got together because Rose is bloody well trying to feel like there’s something real and reliable in the world and she’s got so used to it being _you_ that she can’t make sense of her feelings!’ 

‘It’s not like that!’ Matt barked. ‘I know you’ve been saying it for -’ 

‘Months? And then you decided you didn’t _like_ me telling you the truth, so you stopped paying me _any_ attention because I pointed out things you didn’t want to hear?’ Selena’s lips thinned. ‘Why do you think we stopped talking? Why do you think I didn’t answer your _bloody letter_?’ 

‘Selena, we’re _friends_ -’ 

‘Friends don’t ditch each other because they want to dedicate more of their time to the woman they’re _obsessed_ with who will never, _ever_ love them back.’ The cool, calm, collected part of Selena Rourke’s mind knew this was the cruelest way she could make these points. The hurt, angry part of her didn’t care. ‘Friends don’t ditch each other because they’re being told truths they don’t want to hear.’ 

‘I didn’t _ditch_ you -’ 

‘No. You just gave Rose more of your time, because a part of you hoped she might love you when she was done grieving. You just talked to me less, because I pointed out, and will keep pointing out, that it is never, _ever_ going to work, Matt.’ She tightened her grip on her umbrella to stop her shaking hand from turning her into a water-spout. ‘And I couldn’t stand around and watch you destroy yourself, and watch you ignore me.’ 

‘Selena -’ 

‘And have you even _told_ her about half of what you get up to? With your father, with de Sablé, with the Templars?’ She stalked back to him, reached out to yank the glove off his right hand, and her thumb brushed against the ring. ‘Does she _ever_ ask about this? Or does she pretend it’s just a trinket, even though you both bloody know better, but the two of you don’t _even talk honestly about a damned thing_?’ 

He snatched his glove back. ‘That has nothing to do with this. I’m talking about _you_ and me -’ 

‘What were we, Matt?’ Now her voice quavered, and she hated herself for it. ‘What was I? A distraction? Something you could play with and then put down when _Rose_ needed you? We had something. We had a _deal_. And then Scorpius died, and you saw your chance.’ 

For a moment, he looked like he might fall over by the pummelling impact of her accusations. Then something in his gaze steeled. ‘ _You_ pulled away from _me_! I was trying to help Rose, because she was _our friend_ , and _you_ drifted away, back to Miranda, back to Abena!’ He stabbed an accusing finger at the house she shared with her old friends. ‘You’re damn right we had a deal! I tried! I tried to spend time with you, with you _both_! I didn’t _ditch_ you, you kept _avoiding_ me! I had to help Rose, and how could I help her _and_ chase you while you ran? What was Isupposed to think, other than that you’d discarded me like the nerdy distraction _I_ _’d_ been during the hunt for the Chalice, to be disposed of once everyday normalcy came back?’ 

_I was protecting myself_ , she wanted to yell. But that was an admission of weakness, and she’d already blurted more than she’d meant to. She drew a slow breath and found the steel inside her again. ‘Why did you come here? To make me second choice again?’ 

His hand dropped with his expression, and his shoulders slumped. ‘Because you… I…’ 

‘Because I tell you the truth,’ she finished for him, voice chilling with the wind. ‘And you were hoping I’d tell you a truth you want to hear. Newsflash, Doyle. Truth doesn’t work like that. And it sounds like you’ve worn down even _John_ _’s_ patience.’ She stepped into her porch, the height of the townhouse blocking her from the rain, and closed her umbrella. ‘Go home, Matt. I didn’t answer your note for a reason: we could _not_ be more done.’ 

‘Selena!’ 

But she ignored him, jammed her keys in the door and left him outside without another word, without so much as a look over her shoulder, because she could imagine the lost and forlorn look on his face. She’d seen it a thousand times before and didn’t need to see it again, because she hated what it did to her resolve. 

She was home. She was away from him, away from her mother, away even from the hijinks of the _Clarion_ _’s_ office; it was a Sunday and she was with her friends, friends who would take one look at her, know she was upset, and do what they always did. Not ask questions. Not pry. Not make her face up to issues she was determinedly trying to not think about. But make a cup of tea and absolutely divert her from anything and everything which could be distressing. 

Or important.

* * 

Rose Apparated home alone after the most awkward Sunday lunch of her life. Her parents had arrived about five minutes after the Potters left, and everyone had managed to gush about how Albus was back, and wasn’t it lovely, while acting like they stood on a bomb about to go off. She would have preferred they either didn’t talk about the topic, or talked about it like absolutely nothing was wrong, but instead there had been this stilted, terrible middle ground. 

It was George who’d saved the day. George who’d taken one look at her face and changed the subject back to the wedding, and Victoire and Teddy - bless their souls - were both conscientious enough to realise the day needed saving, and loved up enough to _want_ to gush about the plans. Like happy, normal people. 

She’d left as soon as was diplomatic, hugged her grandmother with a silent apology for causing the spectacle, and got a squeeze back which made her feel a little better. But there were other obstacles ahead, and so the knot in her stomach remained, iron-tight, as she climbed the wooden stairs in the converted old house which homed her new flat. They were not yet in the Floo network, thanks to Matt’s father’s obsession with security. So she’d had to Apparate down a back alley and tromp through the front door, which would have been fine except she had no idea if Matt had gone home or if he’d gone for a drink with John. 

But she felt the heat of the fireplace when she stepped into the flat, saw his shape silhouetted against the flames, and wondered how long he’d been there, waiting for her. The flat was a tidy, modern sort of place by magical standards, refurbished despite the old-fashioned charm of the building, and she was still getting used to it as a home. She’d thought that coming back with Matt there would help. 

Right then, it just made her gut twist into familiar shards of ice. She closed the door behind her, and drew a wavering breath. ‘Hey.’ 

He glanced over his shoulder, sharp features angular against the shadows of the flickering fire, and his pained frown looked all the deeper and more anguished for it. ‘Hey.’ 

She rested her back against the door and realised she had no idea what she was supposed to say. ‘I’m sorry.’ That was always a good start. ‘I was startled, and then he got accusatory -’ 

‘You don’t need to be sorry. He _was_ accusing. It’s not fair. He wasn’t there all this time; he really doesn’t get to judge.’ Matt turned to face her, hands open by his side, an invitation for her to approach he obviously didn’t want to push in case she rebuffed him. ‘He abandoned you. How can _he_ think he knows what happened while he was gone?’ 

Her heart swelled as he confirmed what she’d told herself time after time. This was why he was her shelter; he always knew what was on her mind, always knew what to say to calm the demons that clawed at her guts. He’d silenced them for so long; Albus couldn’t undo that with just one row. 

His hand on hers was a rope mooring her to his harbour when she came to him, and though melting the ice in her gut only revealed the stone underneath, no flesh and blood left in her, the nothing was always better than the cold. ‘He wasn’t here,’ she murmured, tilting her face up to his. ‘You were. All along.’ 

The corners of his eyes were crinkled, and there was a tension to his brow she knew, because she could read his every move and every instinct, and she _knew_ there was something worming away at him. But she didn’t ask, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, touch gentle, coaxing, and distant troubles didn’t matter as much as the fact that he was here, now, warm, close. ‘Like I told you,’ Matt breathed against her lips as he leaned in. ‘I will wait for you.’ 

_I_ _’ll come back every time_. The words were like a stab in her heart, slashing through her walls and defences, making the stone bleed, and so she did all she could do, all she could _ever_ do when the past reared its head and scrabbled against scars she’d promised herself were healed. 

She clung to Matt. She kissed him, let him hold her close in their new home, the first step of their new future, their new life, and reinforced that age-old promise that she was no longer beholden to the past.

* * 

It was late when Harry finally sank into an armchair opposite his son, and passed him a glass of firewhiskey. ‘Your mother’s gone to bed.’ 

Albus nodded, hunched his shoulders and wrapped his hands around the tumbler of the amber liquid that tried to melt him as he swallowed it down. ‘It’s been a big day. I’m sorry I showed up like I did…’ 

‘Don’t be sorry for that.’ Harry winced. ‘That’s not what I mean. You don’t ever need to be sorry for coming back. You don’t ever need to be _sorry_.’ 

‘I do.’ Albus tightened his jaw. ‘You and Mum let me go, because you thought I needed time and freedom. You didn’t fight me, you didn’t try to make me stay. You let it happen, and I repaid you by staying gone for this long.’ He frowned into the glass. ‘And… truth be told, I don’t even know why I’m _back_.’ 

His father tensed. ‘If you need to go again…’ 

But his voice trailed off. Albus could hear the rest of the sentence, an assurance that he was free to do what he needed - but they both knew how hollow that would be. To go again would be to inflict fresh wounds. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Dad. I don’t - I don’t mean that I’m going to _go_ , I just… I have no more idea what I’m doing or what I’m feeling than I did two years ago.’ He swallowed a thick mouthful of whiskey. ‘Which does make the argument that running away hasn’t done me a damned lick of good.’ 

‘There is that point of view.’ Harry shifted his weight. ‘Your mother and I want you to be happy. And yes, we’d like you to stay. But we’ll - we’ll do whatever you need, Al. I know you don’t know what that is, but how about you stick around and we try to figure that out together?’ 

‘It sounds like a start.’ Albus looked to the stairs leading into the further depths of the Potter house. ‘I think that… I think that tomorrow I’m going to get that trunk out of the attic.’ 

His father’s expression creased, and he nodded. ‘I can help you with that, if you like.’ 

‘Yeah. Yeah, I would.’ He swirled the firewhiskey in the glass. ‘Invite James for dinner, too?’ 

Harry looked surprised. ‘Of course -’ 

‘He found me. He was looking for me, all this time. He and Teddy conspired with the wedding invitation to try to welcome me back, and when he couldn’t get through to me - though he tried - he sent Uncle George, because he realised Uncle George was the guy who’d be able to get through to me best because _he_ _’s_ lost…’ Albus slammed his eyes shut. ‘But he brought me back. And he should know that he _was_ the one who brought me back.’ 

‘I’ll Floo him in the morning. And Neville, so maybe he can let Lily come down Saturday to see you…’ 

Albus’ throat constricted, and the firewhiskey managed to burn its way through. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’d be - yeah.’ He coughed, and lowered his glass. ‘What’s the news with the Council of Thorns?’ 

Harry watched him for a moment before he accepted the topic change. ‘There are still attacks in Europe. Some blanket terror strikes just to keep them in the public eye, or thefts. They still make their money off the black market, but really, they’re more South America’s problem than the world’s.’ 

‘And Prometheus Thane?’ 

‘We’ll find him. He’s not working with them any more; he might have his own team, but he must have fallen out of favour and now he’s hated by _both_ sides. He might not be our top priority but the man is a murderer and a danger and we _will_ find him, Al. I promise you that.’ 

He looked at his father. ‘I believe you. And I know it’s not - if I wanted to go after him, Dad, I’d have been doing it. I don’t know if I’ve got that sort of fight in me any more.’ 

‘You don’t have to. You don’t _need_ to fight any more.’ 

_Do I know how to do anything else?_ Albus drained his glass. ‘I guess I should figure out what I _do_ need to do.’ 

‘For now? Take it one day at a time.’ Harry hesitated. ‘Maybe, when you’re a bit more settled… maybe you should talk to Rose.’ 

‘I… should. Yeah. I owe her an apology. That was shitty of me.’ 

‘You were surprised. It’s been a heavy day. But she really hasn’t had an easy time of it. To hear Ron and Hermione talk of it, honestly, she’s spent most of the last two years shut down. Everyone was surprised when she and Matthias Doyle got together, a bit, but… she’s healing. She’s allowed to heal, she’s _got_ to heal -’ 

‘I know,’ said Albus, a little sharper than he meant, and his father fell quiet. ‘And it’s a stupid, selfish sort of objection that I’ve got; this sort of defiance that _I_ miss him the most. And it’s my own damned fault that she and I couldn’t heal together, because _I_ left, but I…’ He bowed his head, and his shoulders hunched up. ‘She’ll move on. She might always remember him, but she’s moved on. I don’t know how I even begin to do that.’ 

‘One day at a time,’ Harry repeated, awkward. 

‘He was my brother, Dad. I love James, and I want to make things _better_ now with James, but Scorpius was - in a family like this, we’re so big, and everything is _everyone_ _’s_ , and - it sounds so childish to say that he was _my_ friend, and that made him special ‘cos he was mine. And he didn’t give a damn who I was; he wasn’t there because we were related or because I was famous, and he was…’ His throat closed up again, the words choking, and he lifted his hands to scrub his face as if he could push the rising wave back. ‘I don’t know how I even laugh without his jokes…’ 

Then his father was knelt before him, his hands on his shoulder like he was eleven years old and again terrified he wouldn’t find a place at Hogwarts - and he _had_ , because he’d found Scorpius, and the rest was history, but for a moment it was enough to know his father was going to love him anyway, whoever he was and whatever choices he made. ‘You tried time,’ Harry murmured, his hold tight, warm. ‘Or, time on your own. Try time with your loved ones, and remember, he would want you _laughing_ …’ 

Albus burst into tears on his father’s shoulder. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Had he? Not on the two year anniversary, or the one year. Had he cried when Scorpius was gone? Had he ever actually unleashed all of his agony and anguish, or had he just decided to lock it away and _run_? 

It didn’t matter, because he’d never cried like _this_ , clutching at his father like he was that scared eleven year-old again, and the grief came in waves that threatened to overwhelm him, drown him, wash him away. But his father held him firm, and he wasn’t lost to it, and when it subsided - eventually, after sobs racked his body and every inch of him until he didn’t know he had the strength or even grief left in him to weep more - he was still there. 

And could believe, for the first time, that maybe feeling every inch of grief wasn’t letting loose a tide that would wash him away, but a wave which might, inch by inch, begin to cleanse, and heal. 


	5. Of Day and Night and Death and Hell

Rose was only a little surprised when Selena appeared at her door with a bottle of wine and declared, ‘We’re going out.’ 

Matt had left the flat to meet up with John and the rest of his old Gryffindor friends half an hour ago. She’d expected to spend the evening at home with a thick book and the research notes Griznak had forwarded her about the findings from Ranisonb’s tomb. It was, after all, a Tuesday night. Nothing that exciting was going to happen on a Tuesday night, even if she wasn’t technically working right then. 

‘If we’re going out,’ said Rose, ‘then why did you bring a bottle of wine?’ 

‘Pre-drinks! The fancy kind, not the “I’m cheap and think being drunk is the sole purpose of a night out so will chug crap vodka in my room” kind.’ Selena waltzed past her, a flurry of blonde hair and red wine, her heels clip-clopping on the polished wooden floor. ‘I like the place. Swanky digs.’ 

‘Yeah - how did you know where we live?’ 

‘I have my ways, darling. Where _are_ your wine glasses?’ 

‘Er…’ Rose hurried into the kitchen, glad that she and Matt kept the flat in gloomy lighting of just a few sconces in the evenings so Selena wouldn’t see her cheeks colouring. ‘I don’t think I actually _own_ wine glasses…’ 

‘Classy. Start as you mean to go on, Weasley. But fetch us _something_ , even if we must be tragic and drink Beaujolais out of a chipped tea mug.’ 

Rose rummaged about cupboards before she found the box, and with a growing sense of guilt and mischief, brought that over to where Selena had artfully draped herself across one of the armchairs. She opened the box. ‘How about these?’ 

‘Cut glass whiskey tumblers. I _assume_ those are Matt’s.’ Selena smirked. ‘That’s somehow worse than not having any wine glasses. That’s not being poor, that’s just being uneducated. Get them out.’ So they sat before the fireplace in silence as Selena wrangled with the cork and Rose set out Matt’s favourite whiskey glasses for them to drink red wine out of. 

‘It needs to _breathe_ , dear,’ said Selena, as she topped up a tumbler of red wine. 

‘What does that even mean?’ 

‘I don’t know how it works, but I know I’ve drunk wine before it’s breathed and after it’s breathed and, I guarantee, with some wine, you want to drink it after. It’s why people slosh wine around in a glass so much. So, get sloshing.’ 

Instead, Rose looked over and said, ‘so how _did_ you know to find us here?’ 

‘Like I said. I have contacts.’ 

‘Except Matt’s dad is famously paranoid and has set us up with all security.’ 

‘Security. Pah!’ Selena had a swig of red wine. ‘Fine. John told me. He’s very angry, you know.’ 

Rose raised an eyebrow. John Colton was one of the most infamously patient people she knew, despite his flippant demeanour. ‘At what?’ 

‘Oh, you know. Matt. I’ve never seen him more happy to have a grumble. When we’re done with this bottle, we’re going somewhere…’ 

Rose thought one bottle of wine between two women was an evening well on its way, but the manner in which Selena threw back glass after glass was putting pay to that. ‘Selena, what’s _wrong_? We haven’t seen each other in months and this is how you show up -’ 

‘Yes! It’s lovely to see you!’ Selena put down her tumbler to lunge at Rose in an all-encompassing embrace, which meant there was a lot of hair _everywhere_. 

Rose tried to extricate herself as judiciously as possible. ‘And you - and it is, it really is, but something’s wrong.’ 

‘Not with _me_. But if something were wrong with _you_ , I wouldn’t know, would I, because you don’t get in touch -’ 

Indignation flashed in Rose’s gut. ‘I didn’t know you were back in the country. I thought you were still in Milan.’ 

‘Hmph.’ Selena picked up her wine glass anew. ‘Matt knew.’ 

Now Rose paused. ‘When did you see Matt?’ 

‘Sunday. After Albus showed up at your Gran’s. He didn’t tell you?’ 

Rose flinched. ‘Don’t do that.’ 

‘Do what?’ 

‘That. “He didn’t tell you?” You clearly know he didn’t. Don’t play me, Selena, I’m not other people.’ She put the tumbler of wine down on the coffee table. ‘What do you think is going on?’ 

Selena didn’t answer for a moment, leaning back in her chair, firelight dancing in her long, golden hair. Rose had always been jealous of Selena’s good looks; how she could be the most distinguished woman at a fancy occasion, or the most effortlessly, casually gorgeous girl at a party. Once, she’d let herself be overshadowed by her friends like Miranda and Abena, more forthright or more quietly confident, with Selena as the melodramatic and less-intelligent tag-along. But if long years of hardship and suffering had done anything, they’d carved chunks out of her insecurities, and when she combined her natural beauty with the rod of iron now running through her, she could be anything. Sophisticatedly gorgeous. Dressed-down but pretty. Haunting, lonely, beautiful. 

‘I’m going to ask my favourite question, Rose,’ she said after a long silence, and green eyes locked onto her. ‘Are you happy?’ 

Rose sighed. ‘If I say, “yes,” you won’t believe me.’ 

‘I might. Are you going to say yes?’ 

Rose stared into her glass, the wine shimmering in the firelight. ‘I still get nightmares,’ she said at length. ‘I still wake up thinking of Scorpius. I still get punches in the gut like I’m betraying him. And I don’t know how to make them stop. It’s been over two years and he wouldn’t want me grieving forever.’ 

‘No.’ Selena sipped her wine. ‘No, I dare say he wouldn’t. He’d joke that he’d rather you weren’t moving on with Matt -’ 

A flinch. ‘He’s not _here_ to make that joke, and Matt and I are working -’ 

‘So you _are_ happy?’ 

‘I have a job!’ Rose exploded to her feet, clutching the glass. ‘I have a job which I’m _good_ at, where I have _prospects_ , which uses my skills and experience and doesn’t get me treated like an idiot child! I have a _lovely_ flat where I live with a boyfriend who loves me, and I have a huge and supportive family -’ 

‘But your last boyfriend was also murdered by international terrorists, and your adored, close cousin ran out on you without offering you any support, and now he’s back to throw all of the choices you made to _survive_ in your face.’ 

‘Albus is - I don’t care what Al has to say.’ 

Selena did her the courtesy of pretending to believe this. ‘You’ve listed very good reasons to be happy. But they’re all about your quality of life and the people around you. I haven’t heard you talk even once about _your_ feelings.’ 

Rose narrowed her eyes. ‘We’ve talked about this. I know full well you disapprove of Matt and I -’ 

‘I don’t disapprove of you and Matt,’ said Selena in a calm, level voice. ‘I disapprove of people lying to themselves.’ She got to her feet, drained her wine, and stepped over. ‘My rule is the same rule it’s always been. If you can look me in the eye and say with absolute honesty that you are happy and fulfilled by this relationship with Matt, that you love him or at least feel you’re well on your way - that he, and your job, and your life, are what _you_ choose, not just what feels like the most stable and comforting option in a life which has beaten you about the face with a bat - if you can just look me in the eye and say, “I am happy,” then I will take your word for it and we will finish this wine.’ 

Selena was too close for Rose to do anything but look her in the eye, that emerald gaze piercing but not unkind. This was not the first time Selena had done this. They’d talked just before the Gringotts job started, and just after she and Matt had finally got together, and even though she _knew_ that Selena and Matt had devolved into blazing rows over time, Selena had never been accusatory at her. Because Selena was smart enough to know that Rose would get defensive at the first opportunity, just to deflect the questions, when all she wanted was the truth. 

Rose looked Selena in the eye, and said, ‘Let’s go get drunk.’ 

‘Good,’ said Selena. ‘I say we leave these half-empty glasses here for Matt to find and weep over. Merlin, he’s got pretentious.’ 

‘He has, a bit,’ said Rose. The stab of guilt from criticising her boyfriend when he wasn’t there turned to a twist of girlish glee at doing something so deliciously petty and adolescent. ‘He’s taken to smoking cigars on occasion. I don’t mind the smell, but I think he’s trying a bit hard to look all academic and fancy.’ 

Selena laughed, and it was a good, normal laugh as they grabbed their coats and headed for the door, and for once this didn’t feel like an inquisition, or an occasion to put on a mask and play the good little worker or girlfriend or daughter. As the wine started to buzz its way around Rose’s head, she reflected how Selena was the person who made her feel most honest with herself. 

‘So where are we going?’ she asked as they emerged into the crisp, cold night air of Cambridge in autumn, and without thinking her gaze went to the starlit sky. Orion, as ever, stared down at her, and she blinked the vision back. 

Selena smiled an impish smile. She did, Rose reflected with a jolt of genuine pleasure, smile a lot more these days. ‘Let’s try Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks. It’s been a while.’ 

Rose nodded, and they walked for the side-alleyway from which Apparition was possible. ‘I didn’t ask how _you_ _’re_ doing.’ 

‘Me? I’m fine, darling -’ 

‘Come on, at least do a proper evasion instead of the stock line. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’ 

Selena looked at her, and something pinched in her gaze - awkward, but not insincere. ‘I don’t usually have nightmares,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t usually wake up gasping his name, or wake up and think the world’s set to rights before I remember it _isn_ _’t_. It’s feeling normal to be alone. Is that called getting better?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said Rose, lips thinning. ‘I’ll tell you when I get there.’ 

The Apparition brought them cracking out of the blackened streets of Cambridge and onto the cobbled roads of Hogsmeade in a chest-thumping heartbeat that was the only indication they’d travelled nearly the length of the British Isles in one moment. Selena staggered and let go of Rose’s arm, fanning herself with a hand. ‘You’re out of practice at that, dear.’ 

‘Are you going to be sick?’ 

‘No, no.’ Selena put a hand to the wall. ‘Just when it’s not a matter of life or death, I’ve discovered I _rather despise_ Apparition. I’ll be right as rain in a moment.’ 

‘You’ll be righter and rainer with another glass of wine,’ Rose said, and helped the two of them limp into the main street of Hogsmeade. ‘Come on.’ 

‘You know the magic words to inspire me.’ Selena was brightening already. ‘So, _tell_ me about Egypt, and skip the boring parts. I hear Raskoph’s flunkies continue to make a sport out of trying to brutally murder you?’ 

The story of Egypt took them all the way across Hogsmeade and to the Three Broomsticks, which was comfortably busy but not thriving on a Tuesday night. Lights glimmered from the windows of most houses, plenty of people went about their evening business, and they could meld with the crowd as just another two young witches out for a casual drink. 

When they got to the bar, Selena looked over Rose’s shoulder and swore. ‘Hector’s here. I have miscalculated.’ 

Rose didn’t hesitate as she leaned towards Madam Rosmerta and said, ‘Then we’ll make that a bottle of _eau-de-vie_ and two glasses.’ 

‘A Beaujolais and then _eau-de-vie_ , evidently we’re having a French sort of night,’ said Selena with approval, and cast another discreet glance across the bar. ‘It’s fine, he’s just here with his Tutshill teammates, the brigade of neckless wonders -’ 

‘I appreciate you ragging on my ex-boyfriend as a form of moral support,’ said Rose, and still didn’t look to the relevant corner. ‘But I’m _fine_ , seriously.’ 

‘Of course you are, dear.’ Selena grabbed the bottle and poured two shots as soon as Madam Rosmerta delivered. ‘That’s why we’re drinking this. Chin chin.’ 

It burnt on the way down, but not like Firewhiskey, which kept burning and which Rose had no stomach for. That was a constant effort to try to warm up her insides, which she resented on principle, while the French drink was more like a shot of flames that scalded and, if you survived, you felt better for it. ‘Hector and I don’t argue. We don’t fight. We’re not hostile exes. We’re _ignoring_ each other exes. Trust me, in the _Daily Prophet_ of problems in my life, Hector Flynn doesn’t even feature in the lifestyle section.’ 

‘Well,’ said Selena, ‘the _Daily Prophet_ is a biased and terrible rag.’ 

Rose laughed. ‘That’s your cue to tell me about Milan.’ 

‘It was _wonderful_ ; you’d _hate_ it,’ Selena gushed, full of self-awareness as she launched into a well-rehearsed and ridiculously over-the-top regalement of her wars against corporate bribery and possible international smuggling, and Rose could perch on her bar stool and drink the burning drinks and listen and try to ignore Hector. 

Despite herself, there was something comfortable about trying to ignore her ex-boyfriend. She could hear him, of course, because Hector was a loud man surrounded by other loud young men. He was a Reserve Chaser for the Tutshill Tornadoes these days, and a small part of her was pleased for him but the rest of her couldn’t care less about _anything_. Tonight, avoiding him felt like the kind of thing normal young women did. They could worry about awkward run-ins and avoiding embarrassing confrontations, and not about the perils of their relationship while they grieved for dead men. 

‘So how’s your mother?’ Rose prompted the moment the Milan story was over. The show had to go on. 

‘Oh.’ Selena rolled her eyes. ‘We don’t talk a lot, because she’s so caught up in winding back the IMC. She’s been complaining for months about being tired and busy, but the world doesn’t really _need_ her to be the mad dictator controlling everyone’s lives and security, and it really is for the best the Convocation shuts down. She knows this, she’s just going to be melodramatic until the last.’ 

‘Mothers, melodramatic? Surely _not_.’ 

‘I _know_. She keeps bellyaching about the Minister, and I _agree_ that he’s a complete donkey. But I think if the IMC’s done any good - aside from keeping us generally safe from the Council of Thorns - then it’s showing people the Ministry needs some serious reforms. Mum made sure she recruited people of talent and competence into the positions of power in the IMC, while the Ministry is _still_ such an old boys’ network.’ 

‘Mum’s been saying similar things,’ Rose reflected gloomily. ‘I think she’s trying to put forward all manner of reforms, possibly see about Department Heads being electable positions or the like. The IMC wasn’t perfect, but they got the job done, and I think people are pretty sick of the Ministry’s outdated eccentricities after they’ve been governed by a more efficient, modern sort of organisation for the last two years.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Selena, ‘but France and Germany and America don’t need to be governed by my mother and her cronies. Which she knows and accepts, but I think I’m going to have the most _bored_ and interfering mother in the world clamouring at me for news or distractions once it’s all over.’ 

‘Isn’t that our life, though?’ Rose sighed and had another swig of _eau-de-vie_. ‘Distractions.’ 

‘ _Morbid_ , you nerd.’ Selena clinked their glasses together. ‘Now, come on, half a bottle in and are you going to talk to Al?’ 

‘I _should_. Though he’s not got in touch. But we _did_ row.’ Rose sighed. ‘I don’t know if I’m angry with him or if I want to make up with him.’ 

‘It can be both things. What’re you angry at him about? Leaving?’ 

Rose refilled both their glasses. ‘Lisa. Saida. Whatever her name was.’ 

Selena started, and put a hand on her arm. ‘Oh, _dear_ , you can’t -’ 

‘She betrayed us, she sold us out. She’s as responsible as Raskoph or Thane or any of them. And let’s face it, Selena, we’d have left her in Kythos, or Syria, if it hadn’t been for Al!’ 

‘What about Brillig or Cat Island?’ 

‘We can’t predict _that_. So much happened in so many different ways. But she told Thane to find us in Venice. _Everything_ that happened after then was her fault.’ 

‘Including giving us what we needed to break out in Ager Sanguinis?’ 

Rose slammed the glass down. ‘Are you defending her?’ 

Selena opened and closed her mouth. ‘No. I’m really not. I don’t… I admit it, Rose, I don’t _care_ about Eva Saida. She’s a symptom of bigger problems, and I _can_ _’t_ understand her because I don’t know enough, so I’ve refused to lose sleep over her. But I appreciate it’s different for you, and it’s certainly different for Al.’ She took a swig from her drink. ‘Blegh. Has it occurred to you he left because he blames himself for that, too, though?’ 

Rose furrowed her brow. ‘I don’t understand why he left.’ 

‘And I reckon,’ said Selena gently, ‘that’s what you’re most angry about.’ 

It was a difficult point to argue. Al had left with mumbling, half-baked explanations of a man in too much pain to want to justify himself, and she’d been howling in her own agony too much to put herself in his shoes. They’d parted with rifts and breaches cracking open, not just between them, but in themselves. So Rose had another drink, and instead said, ‘I might not have time for any of that, anyway; I need to talk to my boss at Gringotts about our next assignment.’ 

‘I thought you were sticking around for this wedding?’ 

‘Well, yes, but there’ll be prep-work in Britain for that, and once it’s _over_ , we can get going -’ 

If there was a sound, it was lost to the clinking of glasses and the laughter of the Three Broomsticks, and certainly no such sound cut her off. What _did_ cut her off was a sudden creeping sense, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, those years-old survival instincts stirring before a rumble ran through her bones, a rumble she knew all-too well. _Something_ _’s happening_. 

Selena had put her glass down, too. ‘Did you hear that?’ 

‘No,’ said Rose. 

‘Me neither,’ said Selena, and they stood and reached for their wands in unison. 

Just as the screaming from outside started. 

‘Check the back,’ Rose said without missing a beat, and then her voice was ringing out across the pub, clear and commanding. ‘Everyone, stay down and stay quiet! I’ll take a look!’ 

Wizards twice her age, the landlady, her ex-boyfriend, all gave her a gormless stare and remained unmoving and silent as she padded to the front door. She didn’t know if they were that desperate to be told what to do or if she, a girl of nineteen, really did have the necessary presence to command them. But they were behaving, so that would do. 

The lights in Hogsmeade were dimmer as she creaked the door open. Plenty of houses had been plunged into darkness, and the flames of the street lanterns glimmered to send shadows rippling across cobbles and clawing up walls. The screaming came from the north, and within heartbeats there were thudding footsteps and about a dozen people sprinting in a blind panic down the main road. 

‘What -’ 

But they ignored her, bellowing to one another to run - wizards, families bundling children, some in their night-clothes, driven from their homes by whatever was approaching from the north side of Hogsmeade. 

Then a sliver of white slashed through the darkness in a loping gait, lumbering towards her and the fleeing townspeople, and the sensation which settled in Rose’s gut was at one moment blind terror, and the next comforting recognition. She slammed the door shut and turned to the stricken patrons. ‘Inferi.’ 

Selena was returning from the back door, and something cold and calm seized her expression. ‘Oh,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘It’s that time again.’ 

‘Hector!’ Rose bellowed at him because he was the most useful person she recognised. ‘Get your boys and start barricading the doors and windows; we want to keep those things _out_. Selena, set up some anti-flame wards on the building; fire’s our friend but it’s no good if we burn ourselves to death. Madam Rosmerta, I need you to check the Floo. See if you can send word out or start to get people outof here.’ 

‘Got it.’ Selena lifted her wand as the screaming outside reached a whole new pitch. ‘What’re _you_ doing?’ 

‘Checking if they’ve blocked off Apparition.’ 

‘They?’ 

Their eyes met. ‘Those Inferi were bone-white.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena again. ‘It’s _that_ time again.’ 

Inferi were corpses animated by Dark Magic, and most of the time this made them shambling, rotten figures of grey skin and bone. This had been something different; human once, but warped and twisted, and Rose had only seen one thing which did that to an undead before: the Eridanos plague, the Council of Thorns’ weapon two and a half years ago. But Eridanos had been wiped out, the infection sites cleansed and the Council’s source destroyed. They had intended on a successor, as virulent and dangerous and letting Thornweavers control the Inferi better, but Lethe had died with Scorpius Malfoy. 

Hector Flynn was on his feet, grabbing a table with one strong hand, his wand pulling others towards him. Outside there was the sound of breaking glass, a scream cut off at a sudden, high-pitch with a low growl. ‘Aren’t we going to block people out?’ he called at Rose. 

‘Yes.’ She swished her wand through the air, detecting the flows of space-warping magic she would need to tap into if she was going to attempt Apparition. ‘But if those things get in, then everyone here is dead.’ 

‘You’ve gotten _cheery_ ,’ her ex-boyfriend observed as he and his Quidditch teammates piled up tables in front of the windows. ‘Then aren’t we just boxing ourselves in to die?’ 

He was doing what he was told even as he voiced objections, she noticed. She lowered her wand as it sparked its results. ‘They’ve blocked out Apparition, so I’d bet we can’t Floo out, or even send word. But this is Hogsmeade; even if nobody gets word out, Hogwarts will notice something’s wrong, and then we’ll have reinforcements from the Ministry, and then we live. I assure you, we _cannot_ fight these things on open ground.’ 

‘You don’t know how many of them there are.’ 

_This is the Council of Thorns. It_ _’s not just going to be one. ‘_ I do,’ said Rose. ‘Enough.’ 

There was a thud of something heavy hitting the front door, and her heart lunged into her throat twice: first at that, then at the voice calling, desperate, ‘Please, please open -’ 

And then a growl, and a shriek of pain and terror, and the sound of flesh and bone tearing. Hector took a sharp step back, his face white, but Rose shot her wand out to drag a heavy oak table before the front door. ‘They’re here,’ she said. ‘You open that up for anyone, _anyone_ , and you kill us all.’ 

Hector rounded on his teammates. ‘Guys! Check the back!’ 

‘And the upstairs!’ chipped in Selena. ‘Those things can climb and jump, too.’ 

‘Madam Rosmerta! How’s that Floo coming?’ Rose bellowed at the landlady stood before the hearth. 

‘It’s blocked off, no messages or travel -’ 

‘Then we fight.’ Rose lifted both hands to the gathered, wide-eyed wizards. ‘Those things out there are Inferi. They will kill you; rip you apart, bite you, claw at you. The best weapon against them is fire; failing that, destroy the heads. Watch the entrances, stick together, and do _not_ panic. We are in a defensible location. We can keep safe. We can keep them at bay until the Ministry gets here.’ 

A rumble ran through the crowd at her words, fear mixed with a certain kind of reassurance that came from the desperate knowledge that they didn’t have a choice. Selena slunk next to her, voice dropping. ‘So, just like old times.’ 

‘Except,’ said Rose, ‘I’m a bit drunk.’ 

Then there was another impact at the window, and the shrieking sound of unnaturally strengthened and elongated nails on glass, and the murmur of the patrons turned into a low moan of fear. 

‘I’m not drunk _enough_ ,’ Selena muttered. 

A window smashed near the corner, and a burly Quidditch player drew back with a look of fear Rose would never have expected from someone so large. She nudged Selena. ‘Watch the front door; I’ve got this.’ She pushed her way through the crowd that was happy to let her pass and reached where the piled up tables blocked the shattered window. 

‘They’re cunning, like animal instincts,’ Rose said, because it reminded her and because it was oddly comforting to educate as she went, ‘but they’re not thebrightest of creatures.’ 

Growls came with the clawed hand that grasped the corner of the barricade. The skin clung tight against the bone and was just as white, sinewy and with unnaturally elongated fingers that ended in clawed nails inches long, curved, sharp, vicious. Without hesitating, she put her wand to the flailing hand and murmured, ‘ _Incendio_.’ The skin went up like old parchment, and the scream was high-pitched, quavering, not inhuman enough and with a childlike quality which made her flesh crawl. But the hand was jerked back. 

And then it started in earnest. 

Windows smashed, clawed hands tried to struggle their way through the gaps, and Selena started to rally the patrons at the other side of the pub. Rose peered through the gap she’d left as the Three Broomsticks was given over to panicked defending, and jolted as she saw the pitch-black, deep-set eyes in a sunken, white, skull-like face peering back at her. 

She blasted fire in its face. ‘Take them down whenever you have a clear shot! They may pick an easier target if we give them a tough time!’ 

_And kill everyone else._ It was easy, as a Hogwarts alumni, to think of Hogsmeade as nothing more than the series of shops and distractions she visited once a term. But there were more than businesses here; this was the only fully-magical settlement in the country. People lived here. Families. Children. The screaming outside was mixed with the growling shrieks of the Inferi, and she could only imagine the chaos out there. A golden glow crept through the holes in their barricade, and Rose knew something was on fire. Perhaps a ploy to fight them. Perhaps something was going wrong. 

A window smashed from upstairs, joined by panicked yells, and Rose’s head snapped to the door. ‘Selena! Reinforce them!’ She reflected, as Selena darted for the stairs, that her friend was a truly unremarkable witch in terms of magical prowess. And yet experience and determination made her one of the most valuable people in this room. 

Another crack of breaking wood, a whole chunk of a table broken away by grasping hands, and then there were three Inferi trying to pull themselves into the pub through the tiny hole. Beyond them, Hogsmeade was a sea of blazing flames, bone-white figures loping up and down the road, and more and more the witches and wizards Rose could see were still, unmoving. She shoved the implications of that from her mind, and send a gout of fire at the foremost Inferi. It curled at the edges around the anti-flame wards Selena had set up, though she saw that magic crackle and knew it wouldn’t hold forever, and the first monstrous corpse fell back with a howl. 

The next lunged, clawed hands swiping only inches away from her when she jerked back, then another wand sliced down to crack through flesh and bone and the arm was severed at the elbow. 

‘We’ve got to block that!’ Hector yelled as he lowered his wand and brandished a shattered length of table like a shield. As if breaking a defensive line of Chasers, he charged the oncoming Inferi, slamming into them with the broad barrier of wood, and sent them all falling back into the street. He kept his shoulder there, pinning the wood in place as Rose and a couple of his Quidditch teammates began to tether it to the rest of the barricade, block the gap. But before the last side could be secured, another clawed, white hand punched through, and scraping nails scoured a bloody length across Hector’s back. 

Rose’s heart lunged into her throat as he screamed and fell, and then she was there in the breach, her wand sending blazing energies through flesh to the Inferi’s bone. The spell was so forceful that the fire ran the length of the arm to consume the whole creature, and then they were slamming the wood into place again, and the breach was blocked. 

Hector collapsed on his front onto one of the benches, groaning. His shirt was ripped and soaked in blood at the four, perfect gouges cut through his flesh. ‘Bastard things!’ 

The wounds were not that deep. But then, Matt hadn’t been wounded at all on Brillig, just exposed to the Inferi in enough up close and personal fighting to be infected. _It_ _’s not Eridanos. It might be different_. But Rose couldn’t imagine why the Council of Thorns would make their plague _less_ infectious. 

‘Rose!’ That was Selena, thundering down the stairs, as white as one of the Inferi. ‘We’ve got a problem. There are Thornweavers out there.’ 

Colonel Raskoph was a complete lunatic, but there was one thing to be said for his particular brand of zealotry. An adherent of the hundred year-old teachings of Grindelwald, as he’d risen through the ranks of the Council of Thorns he had organised them, turned them from rag-tag mercenaries into something disciplined. That included their new names, and it included the masks. 

These were not the distinctive, stylised masks of the Death Eaters, where rich purebloods took pleasure in making themselves unique even while they were anonymous. These were black, with wide, round, dark lenses at the eyes, and the only colour and decoration came from the white symbol at the forehead, the five-spoked sun-wheel. With the robes they wore, long and dark and flowing, they made for a shadowy, impressive sight. Rose was glad Castagnary had operated too much with the pretense of being a regular member of society for him and his subordinates to dress like that. But it meant they had their final confirmation of what was happening here, tonight. 

‘That’s impossible,’ Madam Rosmerta snapped. This was apparently the last straw as her pub was wrecked around her. ‘They’re just backward idiots squatting in South America!’ 

‘You’re free to tell them that!’ said Selena. 

There was a thud at the front barricade, quite unlike the impact of an Inferi’s body on wood. Then another, and another, and Rose realised someone was _knocking_. 

‘There’s a Muggle story,’ came a woman’s voice from the other side. There was a slight accent Rose could not place, and the moaning of the Inferi around them continued, but they sounded calm, collected. ‘I will spare you the specifics, but for those of you familiar: “Little pigs, little pigs…”’ 

‘ _Get back_!’ Rose yelled, just as the barricade was blasted in. Shattered wood sprayed her, the impact forcing her staggering back. She would have fallen, but Selena was there, keeping her up and dragging her away from the worst of the wave. Other patrons were knocked over, faces and arms scratched by the splinters, and then came the gust of the cold air of Hogsmeade at night as there was no barricade or window to keep it out. It came with the gagging stench of rotting, of burning flesh, of the metallic tang of blood, and brought with it the moans and screams on the breeze. And with that, the Inferi lunged through the broken barricade, and into the Three Broomsticks. 

Rose fought to keep her footing and lifted her wand, but Selena grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back, away from the thronging of people and towards the rear exit. ‘It’s done!’ Selena snapped. ‘It’s over!’ 

‘But these -’ 

‘Every bugger for themselves!’ 

And she was right. The Inferi had not been discouraged by the barricades of the pub; they seemed enthused by the challenge, and all the more bloodthirsty and willing to unleash their fury. The echoes of the shattered barricade were soon enough replaced by gut-wrenching screams. 

‘We can fight -’ 

‘And die!’ Selena swept the barricade at the untouched back door away with a slash of the wand and then the two of them were falling into the alleyway that ran behind the Three Broomsticks, dark and, for now, empty. ‘We need to go.’ 

‘Hogwarts.’ Rose looked up and down the road to get her bearings. ‘This way!’ 

They ran, shoulder to shoulder with wands brandished. Some of the patrons from the Three Broomsticks had followed them, but not enough, not nearly enough, and Rose didn’t look back. They ducked into another small alleyway, and another, but wherever they went they could see the glows of spot-fires from blazing buildings, hear the moans of the Inferi, the sounds of battle, and the screams of the dead and dying. 

‘We’ve got to cross a road,’ Rose said at last, and at the next narrow alleyway corner, she almost tripped over the body. It was still and small, clad in night-clothes, and she didn’t want to _think_ how young this child was. But the moment of stumbling, of Selena hauling her onward with a gasp of surprise which was almost a sob, meant they were for that critical moment distracted from their defences. 

Which was when the Stuns slammed into them from the main road. 

Stars flew in front of Rose’s vision as she hit the wall and fell like a sandbag. By the sound of it, Selena was no better off, and then the tall, looming shapes of the Thornweavers were above them, wands extended. 

‘Get her - the blonde one, it’s _her_ he wants.’ It was the woman who’d broken the Three Broomsticks’ defences, and Rose gritted her teeth and tried to fight through the Stun, but she’d dropped her wand and didn’t have a chance. 

She heard the muffled protest from Selena, saw the bigger Thornweaver pick her up and sling her over a shoulder, then they turned to the woman. ‘What about _her_?’ 

‘She’s useless.’ 

‘She’s the Weasley girl -’ 

‘So killing her here sends a message. Get Rourke out.’ 

Tromping footsteps, a shadow disappearing, and Rose tried to stop her vision from spinning long enough to focus on the Thornweaver stood over her, wand levelled at her face. She didn’t want to _see_ her own death, exactly, but it would be nice to not die utterly witless. 

_I_ _’ll come back…_   
  
A fizz of magic. A yelp from the Thornweaver. And then spells flew through the air, a frantic and angry duel, and the Thornweaver was being pushed back, back. Then a fresh spark of magic, a slashing spell she saw crack into the Thornweaver’s throat with a spray of blood. 

The woman fell, and still Rose could not move, but then there was a new shadow over her, a gloved hand at her shoulder. ‘You’re alright,’ they hissed, words too low to be more than breath. She couldn’t see their face, hidden under the shadows of darkness and a hood, and then there was a new voice from behind them, a voice she _did_ recognise. 

‘Leave her there,’ said Prometheus Thane, stood in the alleyway behind her saviour. ‘The Ministry’s on their way; she’ll be fine.’ 

The Stun was _not_ lifted as the figure got to their feet and bounded off with Thane. Shouting from around her was changing its pitch, screams of fear turning to bellowed spells and commands, the terror subsiding, the growling subsiding, the sound of slaughter turning to battle turning to nothing. 

And so that was where the Aurors found Rose, ten minutes later: in a dark alleyway in a corner of Hogsmeade, alone save the body of the dead Thornweaver, and with neither Selena Rourke nor Prometheus Thane in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And finally the plot kicks down the door!_
> 
> _I should have more ruminations. Possibly about the proper way to decant a Beaujolais and what sort of glass it should be drunk from (spoilers: not a whisky tumbler). Selena's using shorthand; specifically she's brought a Beaujolais Nouveau. A Beaujolais's a very light-bodied red wine from the Burgundy region, though it's distinctive enough to not be lumped in with other Burgundy wines. The Nouveau is commonly the first French wine to be released each year, and you drink it young, generally for easy drinking rather than Heavy Wine Appreciation._
> 
> _Yes, I'm taking the piss out of myself and my usual historical addenda here. But I do like wine almost as much as I like history._
> 
> _I’ll settle for talking about the symbol worn by the Thornweavers, the five-spoked sun-wheel; that is indeed meant to be at least similar to the Black Sun design, which has ties to Nazi occultism. ‘Cos I’m being super subtle in painting Raskoph as a bad guy._


	6. Again to Come

Dawn brought smoke and death. 

She picked her way down the main road of Hogsmeade, her father next to her, and watched as the Ministry relief squad extinguished the last fires, tended to the townsfolk, and cleared away the bodies. Bone-white monstrosities lay next to the bundled forms of witches and wizards who had not run fast enough, red blood mingling with corrupted black ichor and trickling together in the gaps in the cobbles. 

Rose looked at her father’s face as they entered the main square, dominated by the huge white tent of the field hospital, and knew he, for all his war experience, had never seen anything like this either. 

‘Hell’s teeth,’ Ron Weasley muttered. ‘They really did a number on this place.’ 

‘Not just here.’ Harry was detaching from the main thronging of Ministry workers in the middle of the square, and headed over to join them. He looked pale and worn, and Rose would swear more grey hairs had sprung up at his temples overnight. ‘This was a coordinated strike. The Council simultaneously hit locations all over the world.’ He handed over sheafs of paper. 

Rose’s gut remained numb and calm as she looked at the staring, motionless picture of Joachim Raskoph, Colonel of the Thule Society, leader of the Council of Thorns and the Brazilian magical government, and now the scourge of the international wizarding world. 

_‘Today is a day of reckoning for all your sins, all your weakness. None shall doubt our power or resolve. From the ashes of your decadence, a new world of purity shall rise,’_ she read, and realised her guts would rebel if she tried to swallow any more of the venomous bile. 

‘A handful of capital cities,’ Harry was saying. ‘Other magical hotspots. Avignon. Old Charleston. Trier. But Moscow, too. Countless more. They’ve been raising Inferi and striking with Thornweavers alongside them, marshaling their movements. The magical town they struck in Sicily’s actually been _wiped out_. This is not over.’ 

‘This is the point where I’m meant to look at you, all serious-faced, and say something like, “it’s only just beginning,” isn’t it.’ Ron’s eyes bore no humour, only a dull kind of determination, and he put a hand to Rose’s shoulder and kept his grip firm. 

‘How many people are dead?’ said Rose, voice tight. 

Harry gave her a look like he didn’t want to answer, and then seemed to remember who he was talking to. ‘Eighty-three dead, a hundred more wounded.’ 

‘Those were Inferi like with Eridanos, you need to burn the bodies, you need to quarantine -’ 

‘Hogsmeade _is_ under quarantine; Hermione got her team back together and they’re clamping down on this area. The same old procedures. They know what they’re doing. Nobody else comes in or leaves, and Professor Lockett’s on the scene trying to figure out this new illness.’ 

Rose looked between them with twisting horror. ‘And you’re _here_ when you might be infected -’ 

‘It was a scramble,’ said Ron. ‘Attacks on Hogsmeade, that’s all we knew. Only volunteers with experience were shipped in once we realised what was going on. So while your mother and Lockett and their people worry about Eridanos or whatever this is, we’re making sure there’s no more trouble.’ 

She hadn’t heard that, ‘we might be doomed but in the meantime let’s get on with it,’ sentiment in years, and she certainly wasn’t used to hearing it from her father. He and her mother and Uncle Harry had probably mastered this decades ago, but it was another incident of being treated like an equal by her parents, and the fact that this happened most often during threats to life and limb was not comforting. 

‘There _is_ no trouble,’ sighed Harry. ‘Fires are put out. Bodies are being cleared. Survivors are being found and checked out. We’ve got a whole line of Enforcers at the quarantine perimeter, keeping people out, and Apparition, Portkey, and Floo remain locked down. We’re gathering reports, but all we can do is wait.’ 

‘Speaking of reports,’ said Rose, ‘I assume there’s nothing yet on Selena.’ 

Ron grimaced. ‘We’re sending out word as discreetly as possible, but the Council of Thorns aren’t yet bragging about capturing the Chairman of the IMC’s daughter.’ 

‘We’llput the pressure on, at home and abroad,’ said Harry, ‘and we _will_ find her.’ 

‘Does her mother know?’ 

‘Hermione told her. Right before she came down with the task force. She’s… apparently dealing with it by calling an emergency summit of the IMC. I get the impression that their disbandment has come to a sudden halt.’ 

‘We’re going to need them,’ said Ron stoutly. ‘Minister Halvard’s a bloody pencil-pusher with no idea how to handle a crisis. The Ministry’s become a dog-and-pony show under him - we need some decisive leadership and if the Council are striking internationally, we need international unity.’ 

‘Which makes me all the more concerned,’ said Harry, calmer, ‘that the Council snatched Lillian Rourke’s daughter the same night as they made this strike.’ 

‘It’s not the most opaque plan in the world,’ Rose pointed out, then drew a deep breath. ‘What about Thane?’ 

‘I have no idea what he was doing here,’ said Ron, tense. ‘His ties with the Council of Thorns are well-and-truly severed.’ 

‘His people killedthat Thornweaver who was going to kill me; she was in charge of the break-in at the Three Broomsticks. She clearly had some smarts, if not authority. They most absolutely were _not_ here to work _with_ the Council.’ 

‘And yet they were here before the Ministry was.’ Harry shook his head. ‘It doesn’t surprise me Thane still has contacts in the Council. You don’t become that successful a murderer of their leaders without really good intelligence.’ 

‘We’ll look into him, too, Rosie. I promise.’ 

Rose glanced at her father. ‘The Council of Thorns has kidnapped Selena Rourke and are making terror strikes with an army of Inferi all over the world. Prometheus Thane will forever be your _second_ priority.’ They looked like they’d argue, even if it was fruitless, so she pressed on. ‘Do we know where they got the bodies from?’ 

‘For the Inferi?’ said Harry. ‘Reports are coming in of a Muggle village about twenty miles north of here being… not there any more. A really small place in the Highlands, but it would account for the forty or so Inferi.’ 

A fizzing, light-headed feeling crept behind Rose’s temples. ‘You need more information to know the incubation period -’ 

‘Rose.’ That was her father again, his hand still on her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. The professionals are on this. They’re checking it all out, they know all the procedures, and for anything we _don_ _’t_ know, they’re going through the process to find out. All you need to do is wait.’ 

She spotted a figure behind them, emerging from the snow-white medical tent that stood in such stark contrast to the ruins of Hogsmeade village, and decided to not argue. ‘I… I’m going to the medical tent. I want to check the casualty lists.’ 

It wasn’t really a lie, and her father and uncle let her go, probably so they didn’t have to explain more of these world-shattering facts to her. It was nothing new, nothing she hadn’t faced before, and her lack of shock and horror, her acceptance of this descent back into the days she could understand, was likely unsettling them. 

She didn’t care. There was a fire sparking in her bones, like she’d just downed a week’s worth of coffee and parts of her that had been asleep forever were waking up. Chaos was come again, but Rose Weasley _knew_ how to deal with chaos. It was peace that had been so troublesome. 

‘I see you’ve swapped vices,’ she said to the figure stood outside the medical tent as they sparked up a cigarette. 

Nat Lockett looked guiltily from cigarette to Rose - and then had a long, satisfying puff. ‘I’d offer you one, but your father and uncle are right thereand that would be the least classy thing.’ 

‘I have to put up with Matt’s cigars. No thank you.’ Rose looked her up and down. ‘How’ve you been?’ 

‘Oh, don’t indulge me, Weasley. Ask the questions you want to ask.’ Her shoulders were squared, stiff, and she looked like she’d been dragged across the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade face-first for hours. Emergency research on a plague responsible for countless deaths and which could inflict countless more was probably a similar experience. 

‘Alright.’ That was better. Rose didn’t really care how Nat Lockett was doing. She was just another person who’d run away from their problems, and though she didn’t feel abandoned by someone she’d never turned to for support in the first place, that shred of resentment that _she_ _’d_ lost Scorpius, too, and had faced the music, wormed away in her. ‘Is this infectious?’ 

Lockett had a drag on her cigarette. ‘On a par with Eridanos. In fact, it’s almost identical to Eridanos. Almost.’ 

‘What’re the differences?’ 

‘It protects the minds of the Inferi better, stops them from rotting away, but also includes a mental compulsion element. They’re smarter, but that makes it easier for witches and wizards with the right spells to control them. Like reports are saying the Thornweavers were doing last night.’ 

Rose drew a deep breath, and their eyes met. ‘So this is Lethe.’ 

Lockett blew out smoke through her nose. There was a long pause before she answered. ‘Based on the information extracted from those few members of the Council of Thorns captured in Ager Sanguinis, and the research notes dug out of there… yes. Yes, it’s Lethe.’ 

She had to look away. ‘So they found another way.’ 

‘It’s been over two years, Weasley. There was always going to be more than just the Chalice to let them -’ 

‘Is there a cure?’ As quickly as control had wavered, she grabbed it again, snapped it back into place as she looked Lockett in the eye. 

‘It took about three months,’ said Lockett, ‘but we got the Resurrection Stone off Brillig Island. It’s being put to work. By midday, I’d expect everyone here to be clear. We’ll begin some decon procedures and letting people out of quarantine within the hour.’ 

‘You say “we” got the Resurrection Stone out of Brillig.’ Accusation slipped into her voice, but this was not hot, overwhelming emotion - just cold, hard fact. ‘Except you didn’t. You were gone.’ 

Lockett’s gaze didn’t leave hers. ‘The Stygian Plagues were wiped out. I had no responsibility to anyone. I was free to go anywhere, do anything.’ 

‘How does your husband feel about this?’ 

A cool, calm drag on the cigarette. ‘I don’t think that’sany of your business.’ 

Rose brushed errant hair, escaping its plait after the night’s chaos, out of her face, her eyes flashing. ‘If Lethe gets the better of the world, if this continues,’ she said, ‘then he died for nothing. You know that?’ Maybe control had _not_ been snapped back into place. 

Lockett flicked her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. ‘I’m going back to work,’ she said, voice devoid of inflection. ‘Hector Flynn’s alive, by the way. Apparently he crawled under a table and the Inferi ignored him while they had moving people to chase. He’s beat up and infected, but we can deal with both of those things.’ She slipped her pack of cigarettes into a pocket, then hesitated. ‘A lot of people in the Three Broomsticks got out. The main bulk of the Inferi and Thornweavers had moved on to softer targets by the time they broke through your barricades, if I’m judging the reports properly. You and Rourke did well.’ 

Rose’s throat went dry as her accusation was met with reassurance. ‘I just told you…’ 

Lockett clasped her arm. The gesture was the awkward move of someone unaccustomed to overt displays of affection, but the sentiment was unmistakable - at the least, Nat Lockett never did something like that out of a sense of obligation. ‘It’s okay. And things are going to be okay, you know that?’ 

She’d been told that a hundred times before, but somehow, this time, the words started to settle that gathering storm. She did not find an answer before Lockett gave her a tense half-smile and returned to the tent. So all she could now was wait. Rose sighed, turned around, and walked flat into Albus. 

‘Woah -’ He reached out, strong arms steadying her, and already guilt crept into his gaze. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up.’ 

She gawped. ‘What’re you _doing_ here?’ 

‘I broke in,’ he said, and the words seemed so alien on Al’s lips that she just stared at him. ‘There’s no evidence that our immunities don’t work -’ 

‘We have no concept of this new illness,’ Rose blurted out. ‘Our immunities could be _useless_.’ 

‘Are you clean?’ 

‘I - yes, but -’ 

‘Even after this pitched battle?’ 

Rose let out a slow breath that quavered with the lingering anger. ‘It’s still irresponsible.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Albus released his hold, eyes roaming over her. ‘I was woken up by this in the middle of the night, and when Mum said you were here as well, when the news came in with the Council’s strikes, I came up.’ 

‘ _Why_?’ 

‘Because I’m not losing anyone else.’ 

His words were low but ardent, and held that streak of honest determination bordering on naivety she hadn’t realised she’d missed. She looked up and dropped her voice. ‘The Council has Selena.’ 

He tensed. ‘Leads?’ 

‘I don’t know. They grabbed her and almost killed me. They would have done, if it hadn’t been for -’ She caught her words before the wave got away from her. ‘Thane was here. Hesaved me. I don’t know why.’ 

‘I don’t pretend to understand anything Prometheus Thane has been doing for the last two years. That man follows his own agenda, and I’m starting to suspect his agenda is “money” if he’s targeting Council members and IMC representatives alike.’ Al shook his head. ‘The criminal underworld isn’t all enamoured with the Council. They could be paying him.’ 

‘Maybe. But what’s he doing _here_? What did he know was going down, and what was he trying to achieve, if he’s no friend of the Council’s?’ 

‘I don’t know. But are _you_ okay?’ 

‘I’m fine.’ Rose gave up on her patch-jobs on her hair, setting about tying it back afresh just to get the errant strands out of the way. ‘I was Stunned, which I’m really sick of happening to me, and fell over, and had some wrangles with Inferi, but I’m uninjured.’ The shock at seeing him was wearing off, and the rifts they’d torn up over the years started to loom once again. She took a step back. ‘Your Dad’s going to be pissed.’ 

‘I think I’m beyond mundane disappointment from him. I wasn’t going to wait at home.’ 

She tilted up her chin. ‘So _now_ you come for me.’ 

Albus’ expression creased, but he cut off his first reply with a long, steadying breath. ‘There’s a big crowd at the outskirts of the quarantine. Matt’s there. I avoided him or he’d have wanted to break in with me -’ 

‘How _did_ you get in?’ she asked, because it was easier than thinking about Matt. 

He shrugged his broad shoulders, more toned after two and a half hard years than they’d been from just natural size and Quidditch. ‘I’ve got a bit more experience in being places people don’t want me to be.’ 

‘You still have the Invisibility Cloak, don’t you.’ 

‘Well. Yes.’ He winced. ‘But, Matt’s out there and he looked… worried. I mean, of course he’s worried, but…’ 

It was a peace offering and an apology and an acceptance of her relationship, and even after two years of separation she knew Albus well enough to recognise it. But she wasn’t ready to answer, so instead said, ‘We’ll need to go through decon to get out.’ 

‘Then let’s go,’ he said, ‘and I can avoid Dad knowing I did this.’ 

She gave Harry Potter’s tall, broad-shouldered, highly recognisable son a long look, and decided to not break his heart and point out _someone_ was going to recognise him and mention it. Instead she said, ‘Decon will be ready soon. We can head for the perimeter.’ 

The southern parts of Hogsmeade were in a less terrible condition. The Inferi had come from the north and so that was where the bulk of the devastation was, where most of the fighting had taken place. The fires had started as wizards panicked and used the weapons they were told to wield against the Inferi, only for flames to get out of control. On the one hand, it had likely contained a large part of the onslaught. 

On the other, it had left its mark upon the village. By fire or by incursion, houses sat in ruins, at best with their windows broken, at worst as smoldering ruins and most somewhere in between. The Inferi had tremendous, monstrous strength; enough to rip off doors, rip apart wooden walls, but the desolation was less and less the closer to the perimeter they got. 

It was another half-hour before the task force had the decontamination procedures in place, and that took an hour, much like the old Eridanos procedures. Rose and Albus went through it in a stiff silence, but they could hear the crowds on the other side of the tent, the Enforcer-manned perimeter barrier making sure the quarantine held strong. 

And it was into that crowd they were released after a mind-numbing hour - a crowd of panicked relatives, concerned onlookers, but press, too, and too many people who could recognise them and decide they were worthy of their attention. Rose squinted as the flashing of bulbs from the press began their onslaught. She took a step away from Albus as he looked like he was going to put a protective arm around her shoulder, and pushed on. ‘It’s been a long night,’ was all she called to the reporters, ‘and I’d _really_ like to go home. I’m sure official comments will be issued.’ 

Al, for his part, had a harder time of it; his absence had left at least a flutter in the media, though nothing headline worthy. But timing his return with the sudden resurgence of mass-violence from the Council of Thorns was worth the press’ attention, and he had to wave off question after question until they were intercepted by a formidable figure that swept the journalists away with an angry wave of the hand. 

‘You have _received_ the official pronouncements from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,’ Hermione Granger snapped, taking both her daughter and nephew by the arm and leading them through the crowd towards yet more of those dour white Ministry tents. ‘Chairman Rourke is due to speak here in five minutes, and I’m _sure_ you can get your answers then!’ 

This didn’t silence the jackals, nor did it stop the staring of the masses kept at bay from Britain’s only fully magical settlement, now the site of Britain’s biggest magical catastrophe since the Second War. But Hermione was followed by Enforcers who helped bully them through the crowds and to the tents, and Rose burst inside yet another white canopy with a sense of release and relief like she’d just surfaced after drowning. 

‘You should have told your father you were leaving!’ Hermione said. All around, Ministry officials checked charts, papers, talked to worn survivors, and Rose caught a glimpse of a world map with more red markers on it than she wanted to count. This place was command and control for responding to more than just the Hogsmeade crisis. ‘He would have given you an Enforcer escort to _avoid_ that!’ 

‘He’s busy. I didn’t want to bother him more,’ Rose lied tiredly, but her mother was rounding on Albus already. 

‘And I don’t know what _you_ were doing in there!’ 

When she’d turned on him, Albus had initially taken a step back - as was common for anyone confronted with Hermione Granger’s tired fervour - but he squared his shoulders as she snapped. ‘I know exactly what I was doing; I’m not a child.’ 

‘You broke a quarantine set up _for your own safety_ , and for what? What were you going to do inside?’ 

‘Make sure the people I care about are alright, because the IMC and the Ministry of Magic have done such a _bang-up_ job of that in the past?’ He pointed at the smoldering silhouette of Hogsmeade visible through the flap of the tent. 

Rose watched her mother jolt as if struck, and she stepped over. ‘Enough!’ she snapped. ‘Both of you! Albus, you _were_ being bloody silly, but he’s _right_ , Mum, we’re _not_ children!’ They subsided with expressions of indignation and hurt, and she looked around the command centre again. ‘This is global?’ 

‘It is,’ said Hermione, thin-lipped. ‘They have to have been planning this for months. Lethe - they’ve confirmed that name - has to have been shipped globally, stored in Council-aligned locations. They’ve synchronised its release on communities, usually isolated Muggle settlements, in order to kill and raise them as Inferi they can control, and they’ve unleashed them all, the same night, on the wizarding world.’ 

Albus looked to the world map. ‘And not just in sheltered places.’ 

‘To say the Statute of Secrecy is _strained_ is an understatement. Most attacks have been in places like Hogsmeade, the small wizarding communities. But in Avignon, for instance, the Inferi were drawn from urban Muggle populace and released on the magic district. It wasn’t a lot of them, but it didn’t need to be in that confined a space, and a couple of Inferi went on to escape into the broader populace.’ 

‘Has the Council gone _completely_ mad?’ Rose asked. ‘I mean, mass murder, sure, they did that with Eridanos for months. But that was always in isolated places, and that wasn’t as much about killing people as it was spreading fear.’ 

‘The death toll’s still coming in,’ said Hermione. ‘But I would be astonished if the results were less than a thousand dead witches and wizards. And that’s before we factor in how many people died to become Inferi in the first place.’ 

Rose’s throat tightened. ‘And _we_ _’re_ dealing with Hogsmeade because we have Lockett, and the Resurrection Stone - most of the rest of the world doesn’t have a cure.’ 

‘The Resurrection Stone is not unique in its qualities - at least, in the qualities which mean it can provide a cure for Stygian Plagues. Avignon isn’t as bad as it could be, because they have Glanis’ Spring in Glanum nearby; those waters have provided a base for the French cure, and they can and have been distributing those waters across Europe. But… people will be dying while that’s happening.’ 

Albus’ brow furrowed. ‘I don’t see what they expect -’ 

He was cut off by a new voice, agitated, determined. ‘I don’t _care_ \- look, I’m fully prepared to make your life difficult if you don’t _let me in_ -’ 

Rose turned, and her heart lunged into her throat to see Matt stood in the entrance, squaring off against the tall shape of an Enforcer blocking his way. Before she could do anything, Hermione stepped up, lifting a hand. ‘It’s alright! Let him in, thank you.’ 

Matt didn’t thank or acknowledge the Enforcer when he moved. His gaze locked on Rose and he flew across the distance to drag her into an embrace which was as smothering as it was comforting, and all she could do was clutch at him for long, foundation-shaking moments. ‘Thank God…’ 

‘I’m okay. I’m okay,’ she murmured into his shoulder, voice muffled, because for several heartbeats she couldn’t say anything else. And then the throat-clenching terror rose when she realised what she was going to have to tell him, and it took an effort for her to pull back enough to look him in the eye. ‘Matt… they took Selena. The Council has her.’ 

She hadn’t realised she’d dreaded this. The relationship between Matt and Selena was one she’d never understood, and she knew she’d never asked the questions because everything remained calm and stable for _her_. It had been too much to handle when she’d been grieving; shouldering someone else’s woes was beyond her, and by the time she was in a state to be a friend to either of them about it, whatever rules were established had sprung up. They were unspoken, and they kept them apart, and all she knew was that there was a deep, deep sense of hurt and betrayal on both sides. 

All colour drained from Matt’s face. ‘What?’ 

‘They had Thornweavers in the streets; they intercepted us, Stunned me, took her.’ The fact that she’d almost died sounded like a hollow thing to say then. She _hadn_ _’t_. Selena _was_ in danger, possibly dead, certainly with no kind fate in store at the hands of the Council of Thorns and Raskoph. 

A roar came from the crowd outside, a mixture of enthusiasm, fear, hunger, and Hermione looked to the flap. ‘That’ll be Lillian Rourke starting her speech.’ 

‘Speech?’ Albus looked blank. 

Hermione’s lips thinned. ‘She’s the Chairman of the IMC. The IMC is going to see a resurgence in power, authority, control - it’s the best organisation in the world to fight the Council of Thorns now this has happened. I know Lillian Rourke. There’ll be a call to arms, to remind people that we have the pieces in play _to_ fight this war.’ 

Matt looked to the tent flap, grey eyes going hollow. ‘She knows about Selena?’ 

‘She does. But it’s not being made public, and the Council aren’t bragging about it yet - investigations will be made, but we’re not going to -’ 

He didn’t wait for Hermione to finish, just let go of Rose and turned to the tent flap. ‘I’ll be back. I’ve got to - I’ll be back.’ 

Rose felt her fingertips tingle with emptiness as he left, that harbour slipping away, but then someone in the command tent - too entrenched in their work to even step outside and watch a speech, needing to stay linked to the affairs of the day - turned on the wireless. Lillian Rourke’s voice, a faint, incomprehensible noise at this mundane distance, was amplified and echoed by the transmission. 

‘… _may be a grim day. But I remind you all that this is nothing our country, our people, our world, hasn_ _’t faced before. We will bury our fallen, grieve for the lost, clear our ruins. But we will rebuild, we will reinforce, and we shall fight. Darkness falls, but it has fallen before, and each and every time the light has prevailed. I promise you that it will prevail again._ _‘Before I arrived, I called for an emergency summit of the International Magical Convocation. I had thought our work was done. I see now that I was wrong. So long as threats like the Council of Thorns challenge the world, the International Magical Convocation shall remain, and it shall remain strong. People from across the globe will come together, will unite, and will - as one strong force, with one clear voice - bring down those who threaten our way of life._ _‘They call us decadent. I say we are united. They call us weak - I say that we will change to face every evil, rise and rise again against all opposition. They say a reckoning has come, and they are right - but when the dust settles, it will be they…’_ ‘She likes these,’ Albus murmured wryly. 

‘People need a strong example.’ Rose frowned. ‘The Ministry’s in no state to fight this in Britain, let alone the world.’ 

‘And her daughter’s been kidnapped,’ Hermione admonished. ‘I assure you that there is _nothing_ here Lillian Rourke likes.’ 

The speech carried on in much the same vein, no doubt being piped across the world by the wireless, and Rose suspected that if she could get past the thunderous memories of a dark alleyway in Hogsmeade, Selena’s struggling shape being dragged off, the Thornweaver looming over her, she would have found it inspiring. The crowds roared with questions and cheers when she was done, so Rose reasoned the rhetoric _had_ to work, _had_ to encourage, and if politics were giving people hope in these times, she couldn’t argue. 

The press threw their questions, Lillian answered them, and within ten minutes she was leaving the roaring crowds. There was a strange moment where the wireless sounded like it was narrating their existence, as a reporter spoke of her leaving the podium and returning to work, just as Lillian Rourke stormed into the command tent. 

‘Updates,’ barked the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation. 

‘Avignon is distributing the waters of the Glanis Spring across Europe,’ Hermione rattled off. ‘Old Charleston is being supported by the Greengrass Network…’ 

Al frowned and leaned in to Rose. ‘The Greengrass Network?’ he whispered. 

‘Astoria funds and manages a relief program in North America,’ Rose mumbled, and watched his expression set. He didn’t need it explaining why Scorpius’ mother had taken a suddenly more active role in the dangers to the world. 

‘But we suspect,’ Hermione continued, ‘several Inferi may have bypassed their perimeter and are on the loose in the general -’ 

‘For _God_ _’s_ sake.’ Lillian stalked to the map on the wall. ‘Get Potter and a team over to the US, show those Yanks how it’s done -’ 

‘Harry’s still in Hogsmeade. As is Ron.’ 

‘ _Someone_ competent in the Auror department right _now_ , then. Savage, Cole, Proudfoot, and Potter can be over there as _soon_ as he’s out. That needs _containing_.’ 

Another Ministry official looked up from their paperwork. ‘Is it still legal for us to dispatch British Aurors to a foreign state without request -’ 

Lillian rounded on the unfortunate bureaucrat. ‘I’m reactivating all of the emergency powers of the IMC, and if anyone wants to argue with that, we can debate it once there _aren_ _’t_ Inferi roaming around South Carolina. And at worst I will Floo the Department of Magic and _tell_ them to invite our Aurors over.’ She turned back to Hermione, and immediately her demeanour was calm, cool, in control again. ‘Continue.’ 

But before Hermione could press on, the tent flap was shoved open and in strode Matt Doyle. ‘Ms Rourke! You’re aware of the situation with your daughter?’ 

Lillian’s gaze turned on Matt, icy. ‘Of course I am.’ 

Matt stood tall, unperturbed. ‘And what’s your plan for getting her back?’ 

Her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s highly unlikely she’s in Britain still. So information’s being passed on to the European authorities, especially the German Shattenjägers, to monitor movements -’ 

‘There’s not a law enforcement body in the world as good as Britain’s Aurors; this needs Potter, this needs their best -’ 

‘Britain’s _best_ need to stop Inferi in South Carolina from killing wizard and Muggle locals and breaking the Statute -’ 

‘And the Americans can’t deal with that?’ 

Lillian’s nostrils flared. ‘Apparently not! But this is an _international_ crisis and so we must pool our _international resources_ , and I must assign them in the most efficient manner.’ 

‘Which means _not_ rescuing your daughter.’ 

Rose flew to Matt’s side and grabbed his elbow. ‘Matt, this isn’t - we should go.’ 

Lillian was glaring daggers at him, but Matt didn’t bat an eyelid, and just gave Rose a jerking nod. ‘Yeah. We should. Al, we can catch up, too.’ 

It was an odd thing to say, but nobody seemed opposed to the grouchy nineteen year-olds leaving IMC’s Hogsmeade Command Centre. Albus looked nonplussed, but went at Hermione’s nod, and the three of them trooped out of the tent, into the lowlands outside of Hogsmeade. 

The majority of the crowd was dispersing, becoming nothing more than friends and family waiting on those inside the quarantine, and only the dregs of the press lingered. They had more fish to fry, at home and abroad, with the implications of Lillian Rourke’s speech, and so the trio received only fleeting glances as they left. 

Matt led them towards clumps of trees further south, away from enquiring eyes and listening ears. He’d changed, Rose noticed, into his long waxed coat, the hilt of his sword a metal gleam at his hip, and altogether walked with a tension in his shoulders she hadn’t seen in a long time. 

Her heart thudded in her chest as she followed. ‘Matt, that _really_ wasn’t fair -’ 

‘To hell with the IMC,’ Matt growled. ‘Lillian Rourke’s a bloody politician first and foremost; you heard her, she’s worrying about the fate of the world, not the fate of Selena.’ 

‘She _is_ the head of the IMC -’ 

‘Yes, and fine. That’s her job. The Council probably abducted Selena to _try_ to divert Lillian, to make her a less effective leader, and she’s not letting them get to her. She’s doing her job, she’s worrying about the USA instead of her daughter, and that’s fine for the IMC, but it doesn’t do Selena much good, does it?’ 

‘Does yelling at her?’ Rose pointed out, Albus trailing behind with the awkward air of one being dragged in as a third wheel witness to a domestic row. 

‘I wanted to be sure. Now I’m sure.’ Matt stopped under trees dripping with early morning drizzle, and turned to them. ‘The IMC can’t afford to treat Selena as a priority. So we must.’ 

Albus and Rose exchanged glances, then Al looked to Matt. ‘What’re you saying?’ 

‘I’m saying we need to take action.’ His jaw clenched. ‘Yes, I’m asking the two of you to gear up again, grab your wands, and throw yourselves face-first into danger, because we _all_ know that nobody is going to take care of _one of ours_ as well as we will.’ 

‘Hunt the Council ourselves, again,’ said Rose, voice going numb. 

‘Find _Selena_. To hell with the Council.’ 

Albus drew a slow breath, then gave a short, jerking nod. ‘Fine. I’m in.’ 

‘Good.’ Matt looked at Rose. 

‘I can’t be _in_ ,’ said Rose, scowling, ‘on some half-baked, idealistic blathering about how we’re going to take the fight to the Council of Thorns, attack them ourselves, rescue Selena ourselves, when we don’t have the slightest idea where she is, what they intend, or what their resources are.’ 

‘We don’t know those things,’ Matt conceded, ‘yet. But we can find out, I promise you. I’ll explain everything. But first I need to know if you _want_ this. If you want to take action.’ 

Rose jerked at the hot flash of indignation in her gut. ‘Don’t you two dare stand there like I’m _not_ the only one of us who’s been a consistent bloody friend to Selena the last three years. Of course I want her back. But I will not ride off without a plan.’ 

He extended a hand, and her anger subsided as she saw the relieved creasing at the corners of his eyes. ‘Then come with me,’ said Matt, ‘and not only will I explain why we stand a chance, but you can also make _sure_ this isn’t half-baked.’ 

‘Just because I’m on board,’ said Albus, ‘doesn’t mean I’m doing this group hand-holding thing, as that’s a bit desperate.’ 

_Times change. Once, he’d have been the first for us to do that team-bonding,_ Rose reflected as Matt gave a low, wry chuckle, and instead pulled out his wand to conduct this mass, side-along apparition to wherever these answers lay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I did more world building! First things first, ‘Shattenjäger’ is not a cool name for German Aurors I can take credit for. It means ‘Shadow Hunters’ and I plundered it liberally from the old Gabriel Knight adventure games seriously (they may have had a source, but I don’t know what it is). I’m normally so cheap in my references, but it’s an off-hand mention and I wanted to give them a cooler name._
> 
> _Glanum is a real place in Provence, France; it is supposed to be the site of a healing spring associated with Glanis, a healing God of the Gauls._


	7. Heard the Call

‘This is your father’s warehouse,’ said Rose as they appeared with the spinning- _crack_ of Apparition in the wide open space. She’d been here before, even if the memories of that day were murky at best. When they’d been rescued from Ager Sanguinis, she hadn’t cared to look at her surroundings. But back then it had been a haphazard sort of operation, equipment and people gathered in a frantic mess. Today, the warehouse reminded her of the training and equipment rooms in the MLE’s main headquarters down on Canary Wharf. Half-walls partitioned the expanse, and from the low buzz of activity, they were not alone. 

‘It’s not _just_ that,’ said Matt, and gestured for them to follow him out of the sectioned corner. A pair of wizards sat at a nearby desk, and had observed them keenly until they’d seen him. ‘I had to come here first to arrange you clearance.’ 

‘ _Clearance_?’ Al raised an eyebrow as they tailed him. 

‘This _is_ one of my father’s safehouses and operations centres,’ said Matt, working his way through the winding network of training rooms, equipment rooms, and desks. ‘But it’s also the headquarters of the Order of the Knights Templar.’ 

Rose’s heart sunk even more. ‘This is going to take quite the explanation.’ 

‘I know.’ He sounded apologetic. ‘In good time.’ 

‘De Sablé,’ said Albus. ‘He was there, at Ager Sanguinis.’ 

Matt nodded, but he didn’t say more until they reached the middle section. The wall panels were taller and thicker, adorned with all manner of maps and charts with marks that constantly changed as new information poured in. In the centre was a huge, circular table, at which stood the tall, greying figure of Matt’s father, Gabriel Doyle. 

He lifted his dark eyes from the papers in front of him and sighed. ‘So, you just had to.’ 

‘Dad, I’m not going to sit by. I’ve been doing that for too long.’ 

‘And you’ve still been more involved than I’d like.’ Gabriel folded his arms across his chest. ‘I don’t want this getting back to the big guns.’ 

Albus blinked. ‘The big guns?’ 

‘Your parents.’ 

Rose drew a deep breath. ‘What _is_ “this”? What’s going on? What the hell do you mean about the headquarters of the Knight Templars?’ 

Gabriel gave his son a reproachful look. ‘This is not -’ 

‘You fund this, Dad; they do the work.’ 

‘I fund this, I provide the intelligence -’ 

‘And de Sablé and the others act on it.’ 

Rose stalked to the table and planted her hands on it, glowering at the Doyles. ‘This is still not an explanation.’ 

Gabriel kept his eyes on Matt. ‘You really haven’t told her _anything_ , have you.’ He sounded disapproving. 

Matt ignored his father, and gave a slow exhale. ‘My father has for years been an information broker of the magical world -’ 

‘I started after the Second War,’ Gabriel interjected. ‘Through underground contacts and moving in the same social circles, I provided magical law enforcement at home and abroad with intelligence on the Death Eater Remnant. And, after that, sympathetic political entities. Before the Council of Thorns sprung up, I’d had very little to do for about fifteen years.’ 

‘Dad restarted everything then, reforged his international connections to chase information the IMC couldn’t or wouldn’t gather. It’s why he had people at his disposal for the rescue at Ager Sanguinis.’ 

‘Including Reynald de Sablé,’ said Rose. 

Gabriel nodded. ‘After you woke him in Tomar, I sought him out. The Knights Templar historically had a tremendous amount of resources and knowledge at their disposal, resources and knowledge the Council would clearly jump at seizing. I offered de Sablé funding and support to seek any inheritors of the Templar mantle so they could gather it, and keep it out of the Council’s hands.’ 

‘The IMC’s power - before today - has reduced,’ Matt continued. His eyed sparked with enthused light, as if he was talking about some great historical find, but Rose couldn’t find it as endearing as she usually did. ‘Magical nations have been fighting the Council of Thorns on their own terms for months, because they’ve thought they don’t _need_ the IMC’s oversight. So we’ve been here - a united, international front. Gathering information, making strikes.’ 

‘Mostly against their efforts to gain unusual weapons, like their gambit for the golem-dragon in Tomar,’ Gabriel said. ‘But as we’ve gathered information, I’ve made sure it ends up in the right hands. We’ve had a freedom the IMC hasn’t, and so I’ve used that.’ 

Albus raised an eyebrow. ‘So what now the IMC’s power is going to expand again? Even greater than before, if Lillian Rourke’s pronouncement is to be believed?’ 

‘Then I will help them. Lillian Rourke’s a politician, but she’s sick of walking softly,’ said Gabriel. ‘The IMC was limited before because countries clung to their own power and resisted international oversight. If today’s done anything, it’ll make people care more about defending themselves from the Council than clinging to their sovereignty. We can worry about _that_ when we’re not being butchered.’ 

Rose watched Matt, whose gaze was on the table. He had to feel her eyes on him, though, because he barely shifted when she said, ‘And what’s been your role in this?’ 

He stiffened. ‘I’ve fed information to Dad and de Sablé while we’ve been with Gringotts -’ 

Gabriel grimaced. ‘Matt…’ 

She’d thought it was a discouragement to talk, but Matt straightened at the reproof and looked at her. ‘I’ve done work for and with de Sablé and the remnant Templars he gathered. He’s been reforming the order as people who will guard this sort of power and knowledge from being used for the wrong purposes. And I’ve helped. With research… in the field…’ 

Connections formed in Rose’s mind and her gut twisted. ‘You didn’t just get lucky with the lead on Ranisonb’s tomb, did you.’ 

‘I _was_ lucky.’ Matt grimaced. ‘But it leapt out at me because I knew it was something the Council of Thorns had looked into.’ 

‘We used our connections,’ said Gabriel, ‘to get the Curse Breakers to dispatch a team of people we could trust to beat them to it. You.’ 

‘You _knew_ the Council would be after us, all along?’ Her eyes locked on Matt. ‘You didn’t _warn_ us?’ 

‘You,’ Matt corrected, sombre. ‘Lowsley and Nejem are de Sablé’s people. Our people.’ 

Albus mumbled, ‘Okay,’ and took a step back. 

Rose spent a moment staring at the wall behind Matt so she didn’t scream. Eventually she drew a slow breath and said, ‘How long has this been going on?’ 

Matt’s expression sank. ‘Since we got back from the Chalice hunt.’ 

‘And you never told me?’ 

‘At the time, you were - I didn’t want to bother you with it. I didn’t think you’d care. Then I didn’t want to _burden_ you with it, worry you with it. Then… then it felt like I’d kept it secret for too long.’ 

‘So you kept it secret for even longer.’ Her gut was no longer twisting. Instead, her expression and voice were blank as she looked back at Matt and said, ‘You have some sort of plan.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Right here and now. About Selena.’ 

He looked suspicious, but nodded, and gestured to his father. ‘The IMC is caught up doing IMC stuff. Even Lillian Rourke’s too caught up with these responsibilities to go after Selena, her own daughter. So I say we go after her ourselves.’ 

Albus returned to the table now he’d gauged there was not going to be an explosion. ‘I assume you have a lead.’ 

Gabriel took a map down from the wall and spread it across the table. ‘Not directly. But this event is only hours old. I have contacts all around the world who might know of Council prisons and the movements of their teams.’ 

‘You have people inside the Council on _your_ pay-roll?’ said Albus. 

‘Some,’ Gabriel said without pride. ‘I don’t have a first move yet. I would imagine whoever took Selena is still in transit; the more Portkeys they use, the harder it is to trace them to the source. They’ll probably be bouncing across the world, and we will pick up that trail _somewhere_.’ 

‘There’s been no public pronouncement,’ said Al. ‘That bothers me. If Raskoph’s snatched the daughter of the IMC’s Chairman, why isn’t he proclaiming this to the world?’ 

‘They might not know we know,’ said Rose. ‘I was supposed to be dead. If Thane hadn’t shown up and saved me, Selena would just be not yet found in the chaos of Hogsmeade and I’d be an extra body who couldn’t tell anyone anything. There were supposed to be no witnesses to her abduction.’ 

Gabriel nodded. ‘Maybe they’ll make a pronouncement when they’ve got her bundled up somewhere secure. Maybe they want to manipulate Lillian Rourke without the world knowing. They’ll have an angle.’ 

‘That gives us time before they _do_ something with her,’ said Al. ‘So what we need is one of your people on the inside.’ 

‘The Council of Thorns operates on a very tight cell structure,’ Gabriel said. ‘They compartmentalise information, and they’ll have _all_ been busy last night. I’d bet every active Thornweaver’s been out causing murder and mayhem across the globe. If none of my contacts have reported information, then we don’t have it. So we go to a different information broker. You know him; you’ve worked with him before.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘I don’t remember -’ 

Albus squinted. ‘Baz?’ 

‘Yes. Balthazar Vadimas, who kept the secret that you were alive after Kythos even though he would have been _handsomely_ paid. Just in case you were wondering if you could trust him.’ 

‘Scorpius trusted him,’ said Albus. 

‘He’s the biggest fish in the underworld; at least, the underworld that isn’t working for the Council of Thorns. I can’t guarantee he knows anything, but he’s where _I_ _’d_ start investigating,’ said Gabriel. ‘International communication is going to be heavily monitored by the MLE from now. I would recommend heading for Moscow and talking to him.’ 

Matt raised his eyebrows at his father. ‘You’re not going to tell me this is a stupid expedition and I shouldn’t risk my neck?’ 

‘It is, and you shouldn’t,’ said Gabriel with a matter-of-fact shrug. ‘But I was your age when I fought in the war. And I didn’t do that for principles, I did that for my friends. I could be a hypocrite, or I could be pleased that my son has principles and stands by his loyalties.’ His gaze swept to Al and Rose as Matt tried to not look too touched. ‘I don’t trust _your_ parents to not be hypocrites. At the least, they’re adherents of law and order and them knowing about my operations here forces them to either reveal me to the IMC, or _lie_ to their superiors. I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.’ 

Albus shifted his feet. ‘I’ve been lying a lot to them lately…’ 

‘Then one more lie won’t make a difference. And, not to put too fine a point on it, you owe me for Ager Sanguinis. Your parents and the valiant law-and-order of the IMC didn’t rescue you from the clutches of the Council.’ 

Matt tensed. ‘Dad…’ 

Rose swallowed the wave of rage at Gabriel Doyle’s audacity, squeezed Al’s arm as she saw him tense, and instead said, ‘So when do we go to Moscow?’ 

‘I can have a Portkey ready for you by six o’ clock tonight. Direct, untraceable.’ 

‘Legal?’ said Albus. 

Gabriel’s dark eyes locked on him. ‘As legal as _your_ travels and activities over the past two and a half years, Mister Potter.’ He dusted off his hands. ‘I’ll start getting the charms in place. You’ll Portkey from here; bugger the Ministry’s security.’ 

Then he left, and it was just the three of them in the middle of the humming buzz of the warehouse, with Matt rather awkwardly looking at the wall next to Albus. Rose knew he wanted him to go so the two of them could talk, but she wasn’t ready to do anything but catch Matt’s eye and say, ‘Can you get us out of here? We’ll need to pack and come up with appropriate lies for our families.’ 

_They_ _’re going to love this._   
  
Matt nodded and returned them to the Apparition section of the warehouse, and soon enough they were in the copse near Hogsmeade again. He agreed to pick them up at five and, with a pointed look at Rose she didn’t return, whisked back to his father’s lair of secrets. 

Leaving Rose and Albus stood in a damp copse near the smoldering stones of a Hogsmeade wounded so deeply it would take a generation to heal the scars. Albus had his hands shoved in his pockets, an indolent air about him she’d never seen before, and it was with unusual resentment that he said, ‘Two and a half years and he never told you about this?’ 

_Now_ something snapped inside her. ‘Is this how it’s going to be? You _waltz_ in after _abandoning_ me for two years and decide to pass judgement on me and my relationship?’ 

‘Somebody has to! Is everyonejust walking around like this is fine? Like you leaping into bed with your ex-boyfriend is the normal way of moving on?’ 

_Selena didn_ _’t…_   
  
She’d been awake for over twenty-four hours, got drunk and sobered up, almost been murdered, and was now facing another mad-cap dash across the world to fight dark wizards. The lingering shreds of control, not to mention dignity, shrivelled up and died. ‘What about acting like you _abandoning_ us for two years is normal? Everyone _else_ might be so happy you’re back they don’t want to explain how badly you hurt us, but you _did_ , Al! You hurt your parents, your siblings, and you hurt me! When I needed you, when we could have helped each other, you hurt me! You abandoned me, _again_!’ 

‘You’re still pissed at me because of the _Sorting_? Grow up, Rose, not everyone’s choices are about you!’ Albus’ voice rose too, a rumbling anger she wasn’t used to seeing from him. ‘Everyone rallies around the girl losing the guy she loves. He was my best friend, my brother! But I’m supposed to put _your_ problems first?’ 

‘We could have handled them together! Grieved _together_!’ Her throat started to close up, and that brought _more_ anger, because she didn’t want to be sad, weeping, broken. She wanted the fire. ‘We set a gravestone with no grave and no body and you _weren_ _’t there_.’ 

‘I did what I had to do,’ snapped Albus, ‘for me. So _I_ could survive.’ 

‘And that excuse doesn’t work both ways? I’m not allowed to do what _I_ had to for survival?’ 

‘So that _is_ what this relationship is: a coping technique. A way to forget.’ 

‘Forget. _Forget_?’ The world narrowed until it was tight and dark, pain filtering everything out except what she could identify as the cause - and right then it was him. She stalked over to jab her finger in his chest. ‘It’s been over two years and I still wake up _choking_ with the thought of him. I can’t _smile_ without thinking of him, I can’t _laugh_ without thinking how he’d make me laugh ten times more. I haven’t had one positive thought in two years which wasn’t soured by remembering _he_ _’s not here_ to share it with me.’ 

Albus’ expression twisted. ‘Not even Matt?’ 

Her heart thudded like it wanted to break out, weeping blood but pumping harder than it had in years. ‘With Matt, I’m trying to feel something _other_ than pain. I’m trying to feel good without _hating_ myself, I’m trying to feel hope without being swallowed by guilt and by grief, and to _hell_ with you for throwing that in my face like I don’t deserve that! Because it doesn’t _work_!’ 

He jerked like her words were a blow against _him_ , not her, and through the haze she could see the flicker in his eyes of the old Albus, the boy who tried to help and comfort anyone and everyone - until he’d burned alive for it. ‘Rose…’ 

‘I’m with him, I feel guilty. I kiss him and at best, at _best_ , I feel _nothing_. That is what he gives me, and that nothing, that void, that is the _best_ thing I havefelt since I lost Scorpius. So maybe he’s been lying to me, maybe he’s been hiding things from me, and I will _deal_ with that, but if you think I should rain down fire on his head for it, then you have no clue, Albus Potter, absolutely _no clue_ , because I don’t have any fire _left_.’ 

He stepped forward, extended a hand towards her, but she shied away like he’d tried to hit her. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘We don’t have time for this.’ As quickly as it had descended, the veil of fury and pain was lifting, because whenever she felt that agony these days it always burnt out and left her more drained and empty than before. ‘Selena needs us, and we’re not going to lose someone else, so we have to… how did you once put it? Saddle up.’ 

Albus’ shoulders sagged. ‘I was an idiot kid back then.’ 

‘And this was just a conversation between two dead people, but she needs us anyway.’ Rose reached for her wand, her breathing slowing, and raced through the preparations for Apparition. ‘So let’s see if we can bring back the living.’ 

And before he could answer, she was gone with a crack between them as fresh as the _crack_ of the Disapparition. 

Packing was easy. She’d kept her magically enlarged bag, the one she’d dragged across the world hunting the Chalice. She’d made sure it still had what she wryly referred to as ‘emergency essentials’ in it, like a full array of life-saving potions, the tent, a whole slew of reference books. Not to mention food, other supplies. So long as she had this backpack she could sling over one shoulder, Rose suspected she could sustain a five-man operation in the middle of nowhere for the better part of a month. 

Normal people didn’t make preparations like that. She’d accepted a long time ago that she was not normal. The main problem now was making everyone else accept this. 

She considered, just for a moment, not telling her family anything. Then she realised that was callous and cruel, and considered lying to them, saying she and Matt were taking an emergency assignment from Gringotts just to get out of the country. Then she sighed, went to the Floo which Matt’s father had finally connected, and messaged her mother. 

It took two hours before Hermione Granger, Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the biggest day of crisis in magical Britain since the outbreak of Phlegethon, had a mere ten minutes. Rose was pretending to read a book with a cold cup of tea by the time her mother burst through the fireplace. Even if she’d expected her, it took effort to not lunge for her wand by instinct. 

‘Are you alright?’ Hermione said at once, and Rose was relieved to see no frustration. Sometimes her mother could be so caught up in work that she’d assume any interruption was a waste of time. 

‘I’m fine. I would have talked to Dad, but I figured you’d probably want to yell about this, and I didn’t know how I’d get in touch with him if they’re sending him to Old Charleston…’ 

‘They are; he and Harry left a few hours ago.’ Hermione frowned as her daughter stood up. ‘What am I going to yell about?’ 

Rose took a deep breath. ‘Matt, Al and I are going after Selena.’ 

Her mother flinched, but looked unsurprised. ‘You know that the government is going to -’ 

‘Do everything they can, yes. But you’re right now up to your eyeballs in a crisis and it would be unprofessional for you or Lillian Rourke to redirect notable resources to chase one woman, when there are Inferi on a global rampage.’ Rose shook her head. ‘We’re not needed elsewhere. And we’re going after her.’ 

‘Do you have any idea where to look?’ 

‘We know places we can start our enquiries.’ 

Hermione sighed. ‘This is Gabriel Doyle’s little scheme, isn’t it.’ 

‘What -’ 

‘Oh, the man is not as subtle as he likes to think. I remember his post-war spy days, I wasn’t surprised he restarted everything when the Council of Thorns came. And then there was the Ager Sanguinis gambit; like he was going to _stop_?’ She shook her head. ‘Until he crosses a line, I am prepared to remain wilfully ignorant of the details.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘ _Why_? I don’t like it; he could turn these resources to the Ministry, to the IMC.’ 

‘He could. And I could make use of them. Great use. But Gabriel Doyle is not a team player, nor is he a particularly good follower. If I set him to work under IMC guidelines, he’d lose a good deal of what makes him valuable. Besides.’ Hermione sighed. ‘I understand the value of a group operating _outside_ of the government. Even if I _am_ the government.’ 

‘The Order of the Phoenix was necessary because the Ministry was weak against Voldemort -’ 

‘And I would imagine the Ministry thought itself perfectly strong and capable, and thought of the Order of the Phoenix a rogue element making their lives harder. We’re not that Ministry, though I fear Minister Halvard inadequate for this challenge. So we’ll see more of International Magical Convocation, whose power is only going to _grow_ to fight the Council of Thorns. And we need that authority if we’re going to be effective, but there’s one thing we’ll lack: accountability.’ 

Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve let Gabriel Doyle run around without accountability, _either_. What, so he can be your watchdog?’ 

‘The man is an arrogant braggart who thinks that a Seer’s powers make him wiser than anyone else, even if he’s reportedly not had a vision in years. But for the most part, he and I have shared goals. Should that change, should he start pulling in a completely different direction, I’m going to need to take a long, hard look at myself.’ 

‘I keep forgetting you learnt how to be in government by watching people screw it up.’ Rose bit her lip and looked away. ‘Is Lillian Rourke going to screw this up?’ 

‘You need to remember that this is the woman who _started_ the Convocation. She saw, before anyone, that the Council of Thorns was a global threat needing a global response. And she’s been opposed every step of the way by people who cared more about clinging to their own power than sharing it for the good of everyone. I know she reacted badly when Doyle rescued you all from Ager Sanguinis, but I _know_ Lillian. Of _course_ she was delighted her daughter was safe, but she was afraid it would be used by her enemies to undermine the entire IMC. And if the loss of Lethe and the Chalice hadn’t crippled the Council, allowing the IMC to roll back its power, her enemies might have moved.’ Hermione crossed the room to put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. ‘She has always been as dedicated to fighting the Council of Thorns as me, your father, as Harry. She might be more of a politician about it, but I trust her.’ 

‘It’s just…’ She gritted her teeth. ‘If it were me, if the Council had snatched me - would _you_ wait until the proper authorities could sort it out? Even if you _are_ the proper authorities?’ 

Hermione sighed softly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But Lillian Rourke doesn’t regularly have Sunday lunch with veterans of the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore’s Army. Most people don’t have a large contacts list of people who could go toe-to-toe with the Council of Thorns. So she has to do everything a bit more _normally._ ’ 

‘I’m not sure what that word means these days.’ 

The corners of her mother’s eyes creased. ‘I never wanted this for you, dear -’ 

‘It’s okay.’ Rose lifted a hand. ‘I’m not - I’ve got to find Selena, though, you understand? If something happened to her and I was sat in Britain feeling sorry for myself, I genuinely, I _genuinely_ don’t know what I’d do.’ 

She didn’t get any further before Hermione made a small, muffled sound, and pulled her into a fierce hug. ‘You know that I’m so proud of you,’ she murmured, voice tight. ‘But I want you to be happy. I know you’re not, I don’t know how you _can_ be, but I just - I wish you were happy.’ 

Rose’s heart tightened. ‘I don’t think “happy” comes when the Council of Thorns have staged their big comeback.’ 

‘Happiness can come under any circumstances. You have to work harder to seize it at times like this. But you must seize it.’ Her mother pulled back to hold her at arms’ length, and sighed. ‘I know that’s easier said than done.’ 

‘Mum, I do appreciate it - but I have to go save my friend. 

Hermione nodded. ‘Is Matthias alright?’ 

‘He’s been and packed and gone. We need to talk about some stuff. But Selena comes first.’ 

‘He cares for you a lot, that boy.’ Somehow, her mother made that sound like a warning, not a reassurance. 

‘And he means a lot to me. And Al’s back, and I… I _do_ feel better for that.’ It was easier to make that confession to her mother. She knew she wasn’t done being hurt to Albus’ face. But the thought of facing Thornweavers was less nerve-wracking with the idea of Albus stood beside her. Even if she wasn’t sure who Albus was in a crunch any more. She wasn’t sure who _she_ was in a crunch any more. ‘I’ll let you get back to work,’ Rose said instead. 

Hermione nodded and stepped towards the fireplace. ‘Stay safe. And if you need help… to hell with Lillian Rourke. If you need us, Rose, I’ll bring Dumbledore’s Army, I’ll bring the Order of the Phoenix, and I’ll bring the whole bloody Department of Magical Law Enforcement to give you backup.’ 

Rose gave a thin smile, not insincere but strained. ‘Thanks. But I think this one’s just us and Raskoph.’ _Again._   
  
Only an hour after her mother left there was a knock at the door, and she wasn’t due to meet Matt for a while yet. So it was with wand in hand that Rose slunk to the door, and she peered through the peephole before opening up. 

‘Matt’s not here,’ she told John Colton, damp and tired. 

‘And good day to you, too, Rosemary; so _pleased_ to see that you’re not dead!’ John gave her a broad smile, whimsical tone in-place to keep any sting out of his words. 

‘You know my full name isn’t Rosemary.’ 

‘I know, but I have nothing else to call you in a condescending and superior manner when you’re being just a _tad_ shirty.’ 

Rose sighed as she opened the door wider. ‘Sorry,’ she said, and meant it, because at the least they’d been Gryffindors together for eight years. It wasn’t that she disliked John. But he was Matt’s friend, and she’d never had reason to believe his loyalties lay anywhere else. ‘I’m okay. Just a bit tired.’ 

‘Chaos come again _is_ tiring. Matt and I were at our third pub when news of Hogsmeade came in, and would you know he didn’t even finish his pint before chasing off? So I thought I should check in with you _both_.’ He padded in, eyebrows pointedly raised. 

Rose watched him as she shut the door. She could see the slightest knotting of his brow, despite his usual whimsical indifference, a sign of serious thought under the surface. ‘Matt’s okay. He’s with his father.’ Their eyes met. _You knew_ , she thought. _You knew what was going on with Matt and his father and de Sabl_ _é, at least a little._   
  
‘Outstanding.’ He glanced at the door. ‘Truth be told, I _can_ come back another time -’ 

‘I’m tired, I’m not injured or dying or sick. You don’t usually have a problem speaking your mind to me, John.’ 

‘I beg to differ; I spent a year with you as the shoutiest prefect in Gryffindor.’ 

_And then I gave up my prefect_ _’s badge for Cheryl, because who cares about school discipline?_ ‘You came here for Matt, but I _can_ read you. What is it?’ 

‘Even _I_ think there’s a time and a place for everything, and sometimes it’s _not_ the time.’ But he squared his shoulders and faced her head-on. ‘Matt’s my friend. I don’t want to see him get hurt.’ 

‘You say that like I’d do something to hurt him.’ She was supposed to be indignant, she thought. 

‘I don’t think you’d do something. Quite the opposite.’ 

‘My relationship with Matt isn’t your business -’ 

‘But Matt’s wellbeing _is_.’ Dark eyes narrowed. ‘You have my heartiest respect, Rose. You’ve been through a lot, but I think people, including me, including Matt, have given you the benefit of the doubt over and over because of this. Perhaps you deserve that. But Matt _doesn_ _’t_ deserve to suffer because of it.’ 

‘He’s hardly suffering -’ 

‘If you whistled, he’d come running. If you told him you’d never love him, but wanted him by your side forever, treated only to the scraps of affection you could spare, he’d smile and follow you. And I say, “if”. That’s what you’re doing, it’s just unspoken right now. And it’s killing him.’ He kept his gaze on her, expression calm and level, and as she fumbled for words, he pressed on. ‘Maybe you know that. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you just don’t want to think about it. But he’s been yours all along. He deserves better.’ 

Her chin tilted up. ‘Better than me?’ 

‘Better than you’re treating him.’ He looked away, and finally his voice went utterly serious. ‘Again, I respect you, Rose. I respect what you’ve been through. I believe you don’t want to hurt him. But I think you are, anyway. And I think someone needs to point this out to you.’ 

_Maybe. But if right now isn_ _’t the time to think about Matt lying to me for two years, it’s sure as hell not time for me to think about if I’m mistreating him._ She reached for the door. ‘I know I asked, John, but I also got attacked by Inferi last night.’ 

He inclined his head, and stepped towards the door. ‘But of course. I truly _am_ glad to see you’re alright, Rose.’ 

‘I’m alive,’ she confirmed. He left, obviously rather shamed even if, as she’d said, she _had_ pressed him to speak his mind. Then there she was, alone in the flat, waiting on a time to meet Matt so they could get to the business of rescuing Selena. 

And so she could get to the business of adamantly _not_ thinking about what John had said.

* * 

Albus saw his mother’s heart leap into her throat when he entered the living room with his rucksack. ‘It’s not what you think.’ 

Ginny got to her feet, gaze tight. ‘Isn’t it?’ 

‘Mum, I’m not running. I know now there’s nowhere to run _to_.’ 

‘But you have to go, anyway?’ That was a new voice, and Albus whirled to see James stood in the kitchen door, arms folded across his chest. ‘That’s sounding like an excuse, little brother.’ 

They hadn’t seen each other since the village. He’d hoped their reunion would be better, that he could be properly grateful. But now he could see the tension in his brother’s eyes, the doubt, and knew this was not the time for a reconciliation. ‘Selena Rourke’s been abducted,’ Albus said, trying to keep his voice low and calm, trying to sound like the boy they remembered, while the man he’d become wanted to point out lives were on the line. ‘And I have to go find her.’ 

James arched an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you think that’s a job for the government?’ 

Ginny lifted a hand. ‘James.’ He fell silent, and she looked at Albus, though doubt rang in her dark eyes. ‘He has a point, though. Why does it have to be _you_?’ 

‘Because she’s my friend. Because she needs help. Because I _can_ help her.’ 

‘You know,’ said James, ‘those are all _really_ good arguments you could have used on yourself over the last few years.’ 

Albus squared his shoulders as the calm boy they all remembered faded to dust. ‘So this is how it is? I get _understanding_ for my choices right until you decide we’re done with that?’ 

‘More like, you come back and act contrite right until you have a chance to be a self-indulgent _brat_ again!’ James stormed towards him. 

‘Brat?’ Al clenched his jaw. ‘I’ve seen things that would curl your toes and leave you weeping in a corner for ten years, _big brother_ ; don’t you _dare_ act like -’ 

‘Oh, _spare_ me the “I did what I had to do,” spiel, complete with grating deep voice!’ James tossed his hands in the air. ‘I don’t know if you’re lying to us or lying to yourself, but your place _isn_ _’t_ running off in the world _again_ , pretending like you’re making a difference. Your place is _here_! War’s starting again, and your place is with your _family_!’ 

‘I am _pretending_ nothing; I’m doing something more bloody useful with my life than throwing around a Quaffle -’ 

‘ _Stop_!’ Ginny’s voice broke through the air like the crack of a whip, and both boys had been raised with a healthy respect for their mother’s anger, springing apart like fighting dogs who’d had a bucket of water hurled over them. When Albus looked at her, she looked less tired and pale in her anger. ‘This family has been apart for _too long_ ,’ she continued, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous. 

Albus grimaced. ‘I’m not _leaving_ , Mum - I mean, I am, but I will come _back_ -’ 

‘You said that last time,’ James growled. 

Both fell silent at their mother’s renewed glare. ‘I am never going to tie either of you to my apron strings. Or I’d pull Lily out of Hogwarts. But she doesn’t want to leave, and Hogwarts remains the safest place for her. So I will just have to deal with that. Al, you say you’re going to find your friend. Look me in the eye.’ 

Albus stepped over to his mother and lifted his big hands to her shoulders. ‘Mum. I’m not kidding myself. I’m not lying to you. I’m not even going alone; this is Rose and Matt and me.’ James scoffed, but he ignored it. ‘I’m not going off to do good just so I don’t have to be _here_. I need a few days to do _this_ , that’s all.’ 

Ginny grasped one of his hands, then extended her other hand to James. ‘I’m going to be trite at you boys,’ she warned. ‘The family being together doesn’t mean we all stay at home. It means we trust each other and we back each other up. It means we’re here for each other. I know you’re both hurt, and you’re both afraid, but you have to stop fighting like this. You’ll just drive each other apart.’ 

Albus looked at James, and saw that familiar, resentful glimmer in his eye. ‘Jim - you brought me back, Jim. I’m not going to forget that.’ 

The surly glint about his brother faded for a more apprehensive, guarded edge. ‘I don’t know if I can bring you back another time.’ 

Al clasped his shoulder. ‘You won’t have to. I promise you both, I am not running. I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago; I’m being where my friends need me. I can’t make up for what I did, but I… if something happens to Selena, after we lost Methuselah, after we lost Scorpius - we can’t. I know Matt and Rose will go with or without me. I have to go for me, I have to go for Selena, and I have to go for _them_.’ He saw James scowl, and pressed on. ‘Of course that doesn’t mean I put them before you. But you don’t need me sat at home, agonising and worrying.’ 

‘We need you _safe_ ,’ James said. 

‘And I will be careful.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Ginny. ‘ _Do_ be careful when you charge after Thornweavers selected to capture and detain the daughter of the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation.’ 

But her lips twitched, James snorted, and then Albus was laughing, too - a small, nervous laugh, tinged with apprehension, and Ginny pulled him into a hug which he returned fervently. James was dragged into it too, and the three clung to each other for a long time, as if Ginny could squeeze her message into them - or set into him an anchor which would make sure, this time, he came back soon. 

He had no intention of letting them down again. 


	8. The Lawless Perch

It wasn’t snowing in Moscow, and Rose felt a little cheated. With the time difference and the intricacies of taking an illegal Portkey, it was late and dark by the time they stepped into the streets, and the cold bit through her coat and jumper. She hadn’t realised she’d shivered, but then Matt put an arm around her shoulder. She ignored Al’s look. 

‘What’ve we got, hotel rooms?’ asked Albus. 

‘No way. We don’t want anyone to know we’re in the city, and we have no control over who’s got access to a hotel, magical or Muggle. Dad sorted us a safe house near here.’ Matt looked up and down the street, then picked a direction. 

‘We couldn’t have taken the Portkey there directly? Instead of into a back alley?’ 

‘If someone traces this Portkey, all they know is that we’re in Moscow. If the Portkey went right to where we’re staying, they’d be able to find us.’ 

Rose tuned out the bickering and turned her gaze to this run-down district of Moscow. She’d anticipated more of a culture shock, but if it weren’t for the Cyrillic script on signs and shops, she would have struggled to tell she wasn’t in some decrepit industrial region of London. That, and the cold. It was a good ten to fifteen degrees colder than it had been in England, and while it wasn’t beyond what she’d expect deeper in winter, it was a sudden change. 

They weren’t in a magical district and there weren’t many people on the street, so they made the fifteen-minute walk without incident. Matt had to stop a few times, pull a map from his pocket, consult the signs with a furrowed brow as he tried to match up symbols he didn’t understand, before they reached what looked like an abandoned block of workers’ flats across from an empty refinery. He pulled his wand, tapped it twice against a dead nearby lamppost, and murmured something Rose couldn’t hear. 

‘There we go.’ 

Albus squinted as the building made the transition from empty and run-down to illuminated and run-down. ‘Your father doesn’t take style as seriously as security, I see.’ 

Matt glared. ‘It’ll be fine. It’s warded and nobody will spot any lights or signs of life inside, wizard or otherwise. What were you expecting, a five-star hotel?’ 

Rose pushed past them to get the door and was relieved when Albus followed instead of taking the bait. The safehouse Gabriel Doyle had arranged for them proved to be more comfortable on the inside; plain and simple, but it was warm, clean, furnished, and well-stocked with food. Only the top floor of the building was usable, with two bunkrooms, a kitchenette, and a seating area boasting an impressive table from which one could presumably plot an international strike. 

‘We’re meeting Baz at ten at his place,’ said Matt. ‘Local time, of course. It’s only a four hour difference but I suggest we don’t get a late night.’ 

Albus gave him a sidelong look. ‘If we’re being all motherly, then I’ll cook us a nice dinner, shall I?’ 

He did. It was garnished with resentment, but for a few moments, with the three of them sat around the huge table, Albus rattling back and forth with plates of what glorious things he could do with a few tins of essentials, everything felt like normal. Or, like the last meal Rose could remember counting as “normal”, which was a sunlit evening on a terrace in Venice eating dinner with her friends. 

But once the silence of eating passed for the silence of tension, Albus’ eyes flickering between the two of them with an accusatory air she wasn’t used to, normalcy faded for anxiety. Rose pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll clean up, then I’m turning in. I’ve only had cat-naps after last night.’ 

‘No, I’ll do it.’ Al pushed to his feet. ‘You need your rest.’ 

She gave him a look, then nodded and stalked to one of the bunkrooms before she could give the matter much thought. _How can you tear strips off me for how I live my life, then go right back to being the guy I remember?_   
  
Despite being bone weary, fifteen minutes later she was no closer to sleep than lying on a bunk and staring at the ceiling, and so the knock was no interruption. With a sigh, she got up and opened the door to see a sheepish-looking Matt. 

‘This is awkward,’ he said. The living room around him was gloomy. ‘I didn’t know if you’d rather I just bunked with Al.’ 

‘Oh.’ Rose rubbed an eye. ‘I didn’t mean to do that. I’m pretty tired.’ But she stepped back from the door, and he followed with a nervous, grateful smile. 

‘I know, and I get that we need to talk, and I get that now might not be the best time, so if you want to stick a pin in it until all of this is over, or at least until you’ve had some sleep -’ 

She lifted a hand to cut him off. ‘I don’t want to be angry with you, Matt.’ 

‘Oh. Good?’ He stood in the middle of the bunkroom, wringing his hands together. ‘I don’t have many better explanations than what I said before. I fell into this after the Chalice hunt. You clearly wanted nothing more to do with the Council, I didn’t want to land this at your door, and by the time I thought you could cope with it, I’d been doing this for ages. There was no good time to turn around and say, “by the way, I’m working for the Order of the Knights Templar.”’ 

‘Your father seemed cynical on that point.’ 

Matt shrugged. ‘Dad’s funded Reynald de Sablé. But de Sablé - you should meet him, properly meet him, Rose. If Raskoph is an ancient relic come back to spread his words of hate, then de Sablé’s like his opposite number. Even _aside_ from the Council of Thorns, there’s work to do with these lost bits of knowledge and magic scattered around the world, and someone has to be responsible for them.’ 

‘And Gringotts aren’t the people for the job?’ she said wryly. 

He snorted. ‘My point is that I didn’t get into this just to fight. We know the Council would use all manner of ancient weapons. They were prepared to snatch options other than the Chalice - God knows what they found to reform Lethe, after all. I didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with them and look for trouble. I wanted to help keep the wrong things out of their hands.’ 

Rose looked to the window. They were not so high up that she could see anything but the dull concrete of the opposite building, and for a heartbeat she missed the view they’d had in their rooms in Cairo. Even that felt like a lifetime ago, a time of dull, plain nothing in contrast to the present tension, fear, hate. ‘I understand that you weren’t done, after the Chalice. But I _was_. And if it weren’t for Selena, I’d still be done.’ 

‘Would you prefer I’d told you?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Her throat tightened as she looked at him. ‘I know that I’ll worry about something happening to you. But if you think I don’t worry about that when you walk down the street -’ 

Matt flew to her side, grabbing her hand in both of his. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise -’ 

She flinched so hard she jerked her hand free, and he stepped back, startled. ‘Don’t promise. You can’t _promise_ anything. God, Matt, we’re chasing down the Council of Thorns, possibly Raskoph himself, and we’ve never done _that_ before, we’ve never gunned for them directly. Even Selena’s hunt for Thane turned into a hunt for the Chalice. We can’t _promise_ that any of us are going to be alright.’ 

He stood frozen for a moment, grasping at the air where she’d been. ‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Even if I’m not sure what else I was supposed to do. But you know, now, and so I suppose the question is, what does this mean for _us_? Do you want me to… stop this work?’ 

She looked at him, and something crumpled inside her. _You would, wouldn_ _’t you. Even if you clearly love this, even if you clearly_ need _to do this, you_ _’d stop if I asked you to._ So she shook her head. ‘We have to focus on Selena. I can’t think about the future right now.’ But his expression flickered, and she dug deep in herself to find the steel to ask the question. ‘What _happened_ between you two?’ 

Matt blinked. ‘What do you mean? Nothing happened -’ 

‘Like hell.’ She shifted to face him head-on. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, Matt. I’m saying that you two went from being friends and confidantes to… I don’t even know what. I never got around to asking. By the time I could think about taking on someone else’s problems, there was a wall between you two.’ 

His shoulders tensed. ‘We were… I don’t know what we were. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a… a _thing_ when it was all coming to an end, when we’d found the Chalice, when we were in Venice. But then - then everything went wrong, and you needed us, needed us both, and we didn’t really have the time. And then she started to pull away from me. Hung out with her old friends, avoided me, and so… I don’t know. I suppose we might have fought, but you needed us both. And I wasn’t going to spend time chasing her if she didn’t want to be around me, and…’ 

Rose lifted a hand to her temples. ‘And I needed your attention more.’ 

‘That sounds more blaming than I meant it.’ He approached her again, gait ginger. ‘I figured I could focus on someone who actually wanted me around. And not someone who’d suddenly decided I wasn’t worth the time of day.’ 

She raised her gaze, searched his face. ‘Except you’re like a cat on a hot tin roof now she’s in danger.’ 

Matt paused. ‘Is this - Rose, I don’t -’ 

‘I’m not accusing you,’ she repeated, and it was the truth. There was no jealousy, no fear, just a low curiosity mixed with a dull realisation of things she’d let slip by her, willingly or otherwise, over the last two years. It was like she’d finally stepped away from the jigsaw puzzle of her life, and not only was she seeing the bigger picture, she was finding pieces she’d had all along and was slotting them into place. 

But the image was still only black and white. 

Matt drew a deep breath. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘But I can’t stand by and do nothing for Selena, not when I have the resources to hand. Even if she’s… no matter what’s happened… I have to do what I can. Everything I can.’ 

‘I know. And I’m right there with you. We’re not losing anyone else.’ She paused, then extended an awkward hand towards him. ‘I’m not saying I’m angry with you about this Templar business, _or_ that I’m over it. But I can’t think about this right now. I know it’s harsh for me to ask if we can put it on hold until it’s all over -’ 

‘It’s not harsh,’ he said, hurrying to her and taking her hand again. ‘I understand. This is more important.’ 

She dug deep in herself and found a smile. After all, she knew he would take whatever reaction she hurled at him, and so she figured he deserved that smile, and that idea of understanding, rather than the blank numbness whose residence in her gut had yet to shift. Even with him.

* * 

‘Moscow’s a pretty modern city, even the wizarding parts,’ Matt was saying as they walked the network of alleyways leading to the magical district of the city. ‘There was a lot of rebuilding in the fifties, a lot of old places - especially religious sites - knocked down, and replaced with huge skyscrapers and those soulless housing blocks like where we’ve stayed.’ 

‘Except for those really colourful buildings?’ 

‘Pre-Soviet,’ Matt told Rose. ‘And a lot of them were heavily restored. But the Muggles of Moscow have been worse for conserving historical buildings than a load of other places. European places, at least.’ 

Albus wasn’t paying much attention. He’d bowed to the cold by putting another thick coat on over his leather jacket, which he wasn’t about to abandon, and trailed behind Rose and Matt. Matt was up to his eyeballs in historic ramblings, and Rose was paying at least cursory attention, so Al felt _somebody_ had to worry about their security. There was no sign anyone was after them, or even cared about their travel, but he’d spent two years being on his own and pissing off all manner of different people. Watching his back had become second nature, so it wasn’t difficult to turn this into watching _all_ their backs. 

‘We want the Morena Gate,’ Matt added. 

‘That name’s ringing a bell,’ said Rose. 

‘Morena was an old Slavic deity, with different associations in different places. Also called Mora, or Marzanna -’ 

The laugh choked in Albus’ throat before he could stop it, surprised and bitter. The other two looked back at him, and his expression twisted. ‘Marzanna’s what they call her in Poland, yes. They drown an effigy of her as a symbol of _evil_ at the end of winter, to ward off death, disease, pestilence.’ 

Matt’s eyebrows raised. ‘You saw the festival?’ 

‘No. I did kill a dark wizard trying to invoke her power at the winter solstice, though.’ He ignored their curious gazes and went back to checking nearby windows. His wand occasionally swished, hidden up his sleeve, to detect unusual magical signatures. 

‘A Thornweaver?’ said Rose. 

‘Just a dark wizard. They happened before the Council came along and they’ll keep happening.’ Albus shrugged. ‘We’re close, I can feel the magic.’ 

Matt gave him an uneasy look, then returned his gaze to the route ahead. ‘Yeah. There have been bricks on the way to tap in sequence, then we turn what I think is this next corner, and…’ 

And instead of another narrow alleyway in eastern Moscow, there was a huge, broad street that couldn’t possibly fit. If Diagon Alley was a throwback to old London, this was the opposite: modern, with simple brick masonry, narrow windows with well-decorated arches around them, all sharp corners and straight lines. It was in much better condition, better maintained and the paint no longer peeling, than the alleyways they’d come through, and from the long, sweeping robes of the public, it was obvious they were now in the magical district. 

‘We’re going to be recognised,’ Albus grumbled, and went through the familiar motions. He pulled up his hood, shoved his hands in his pockets with a good grasp on his wand, and slumped his shoulders, all the better to fade into a crowd. 

‘We’re not that famous, Al,’ Rose said. 

‘We _are_ that hated by the Council of Thorns. Trust me. We’ll draw attention for being foreign, then people will ask questions, then -’ 

‘I think they’ve got bigger fish to fry,’ Matt said, and nodded down the road. The crowds at this end were sparse, people moving quickly from place to place with an air of determination and fear, but about a hundred metres down the street, Al could see them clumping together, tall barricades set up. Witches and wizards in long robes bearing the insignia of the Russian Magical Federation went to and fro, blocked the way of people coming closer, and moved in and out of nearby buildings whose windows and doors had been heavily reinforced. 

‘Moscow was hit yesterday, too,’ Rose said. ‘Looks like they haven’t cleared the region out.’ 

‘They might still need a quarantine,’ said Matt. ‘Baz thought meeting _here_ was a discreet option?’ 

‘If everyone’s attention is drawn, then this works for us,’ Albus pointed out. ‘Where’s this bar?’ 

‘It’s at this end. I wouldn’t think it’s open, we may need a back entrance,’ said Matt, and led the way deeper into the magical district. Albus scowled at his back, noting from here how plain it was that Matt had his wand up his sleeve, how his long coat bulked out around the hilt of his sword. An average person on the street wouldn’t notice, but he wasn’t worried about average people on the street. He was worried about professionals. 

‘I think this is the place,’ Matt said as they approached one of the buildings on the street - the door closed, the shutters closed, only a sign out front in a language none of them could read. ‘The Lone Bogatyr, is how it was translated to me…’ 

Albus drew a sharp breath. ‘If you spent half as much time preparing for this journey as you spent indulging in your obsession with history, we might have answers by now. Are you going to knock, professor, and introduce us to your vaunted contacts, products of your _father_ _’s_ hard work, or are you going to keep blathering on?’ 

Rose bristled. ‘Al -’ 

‘I’ll knock,’ said Matt, his expression going tense, but blank. He rapped sharply on the door. 

It took long seconds until a hatch in the door slid open, a lone eye peering out at them, and something was rattled off in rather fast Russian. Matt grimaced. ‘Er, I don’t speak - we’re here to see Baz.’ 

Albus sighed heavily at the fast greeting, but he’d caught half the words, and when he spoke, it was in his own, rather broken Russian. ‘We have a meeting. Tell him to look out of the window. He will see us. He will want to talk.’ 

There was a pause, then the hatch snapped shut. Albus glanced at the other two, and shrugged. ‘I’ve been around the last few years. A lot of time was spent in Eastern Europe. Yes, I speak a little Russian.’ 

‘You could have mentioned that before we got here,’ Matt grumbled. 

‘I assumed you’d done your homework.’ 

‘My _homework_ doesn’t extend to reading Cyrillic - look, I speak French and a little German and Arabic, don’t you be _smug_ -’ 

‘Will you two both shut up?’ Rose hissed. ‘Don’t complain about not keeping a low profile and then start bickering in the street.’ 

Albus grunted and fell into silence, but he failed to hide a smirk at the sound of bolts scraping back, and a thin-faced man opened the door to usher them inside. ‘Baz is upstairs,’ he said, now in the English Albus had known, from his reactions, he’d understood all along. ‘My apologies. We are closed because of the attack.’ 

‘I understand,’ said Matt, now magnanimous, and led the way into the bar. With the many wooden chairs and table bereft of patrons, the fireplace on the far side dead, the shutters down over the bar itself, it was a gloomy, unpleasant sort of place, and he wasted no time in heading for the stairs. Their threshold guardian slammed the door shut behind them, and the hairs on the back of Al’s neck went up as the bolts slid back into place. This wasn’t just a metal locking, but a magical one. If this went sour they were trapped, and there was only one reason Albus had any faith in Baz as their contact - not that he’d met him before, relied on him before, though that helped. But Scorpius had trusted him, at a time when they barely trusted anyone. 

The door to the office upstairs was open, and Albus heard the Russian’s voice before he saw him, when Matt was at the top of the stairs. ‘Ah, Mister Doyle, I assume. Come in, come in.’ Albus let himself relax, ushered Rose up before him, and almost walked into the backs of both of them when they froze in the doorway. 

The office was large and well-lit, with a narrow window offering a good view of the Morana Gate, and the hubbub around the barricade. The walls sported peeling paint, old metal filing cabinets, a wide, battered desk at which the short, sallow-faced shape of Baz sat, wearing a smile frozen with confusion at their reactions. 

And then he spotted the woman in the far corner. She was tall, her black hair shorter than he remembered, her features more sharp, severe, and still marred by that scar which scraped across the skin on the left side of her jaw. But she could have worn the best disguise and still he would have recognised her, with those eyes and that stance burned into him for all eternity. 

His throat went dry. ‘You.’ 

Eva Saida straightened, and drew an awkward breath. ‘This wasn’t -’ 

Then Albus wasn’t stood in the doorway anymore. His legs propelled him across the room, and Baz gave a squawk of surprise while Rose and Matt just stared, dumbstruck. Even Saida didn’t get time to react before Albus’ hand shot out, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the wall. 

‘I said I’d kill you if I saw you again,’ he snarled. 

‘I -’ She tried to speak, but her words failed to choke past his hold, and for a moment all she did was claw at his forearm, powerless against his strength. 

‘Albus! We don’t - let her go!’ That was Matt, baffled and desperate, and he might as well have not spoken for all his words did to pierce the red veil that had wrapped its smothering grasp around him. 

‘This isn’t - what the hell is going on?’ Baz demanded from the safety of the other side of his desk. 

He saw something flicker in Saida’s eyes, saw the shock and fear shift to something else, and for half a heartbeat he was glad, because something deep and old inside of him, beyond the reach of the spectre of fury, howled in protest at making her afraid. But he didn’t have long to reflect on that, because then there was the gust of magic thudding into his gut and sending him flying across the room to crash into a filing cabinet. 

Stars exploded in front of his eyes, but he’d taken a worse beating and was on his feet in moments, wand extended. She had hers up, too, but her stance was defensive, taut. ‘Al, you have to _listen_ -’ 

‘Don’t you call me that.’ His voice tore his throat open with its thunderous shake. ‘Don’t you _dare_ -’ 

Matt stepped between them, both hands raised. ‘We’re here to talk! Not here to _fight_!’ 

Albus glowered at him, then his gaze snapped to Rose, still frozen in the doorway. ‘She got Scorpius killed; are you just going to _stand there_ -’ 

‘Will someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?’ Baz stamped his foot and was promptly ignored. 

‘I’m here to talk, too,’ said Saida. ‘But I’ll lower my wand when _he_ does.’ 

Albus shifted into a fighting stance, and wondered how best to hurl Matt out of the way without harming him too badly. ‘Like hell will I -’ 

He’d been so busy contemplating how to remove Matt that he didn’t expect him to strike. Not at Saida, but him, his wand moving with impressive speed to throw out a Stun which Al, by instinct, shielded against. But Matt was still acting, his sword in hand for a swipe which cleaved its way through that magical barrier, and with his back to a filing cabinet, Albus couldn’t move away for more space. The blow was well-aimed, because after collapsing his shield, the blade only sliced through thin air, and Albus was still reeling when Matt’s Disarm knocked his wand out of his hand. 

Now the instinct to kill Saida wasn’t as strong as the instinct to defendhimself, unarmed against a man with a wand and a blade. Reflex made Albus step forward, inside Matt’s swing - and punch him in the face. 

There was a crunch at the impact, a spurt of blood, and Matt gave a bellow of pain as he fell back, dropping his weapons to clutch his nose. But it broke the moment, at least, and Al stood there for a moment, blinking owlishly as Rose dived to Matt’s side, as Baz kept shouting, and as Eva Saida kept her wand trained on him and didn’t move. 

‘You dupid badtard!’ Matt slurred through streaming blood and a broken nose. ‘Ng, Bose, could you…’ 

Rose was already casting, and there was another _crack_ and a howl of pain from Matt, but he could lower his hand. Blood covered the lower part of his face, dripped onto his coat, but the nose was intact now, and he gave Albus a baleful look. ‘We’re here for _Selena_ , not your problems! Is it _possible_ for you to ask questions before you open fire, so maybe we can get some answers and stop _somebody else_ from dying?’ 

Baz had given up, pulled up a chair, and lit a cigarette. Rose pulled away from Matt, and moved to Albus’ side, lifting a hand to him like he was a horse who might bolt - or go berserk, and he didn’t hesitate to turn his glower on her, too, even if the red veil was lifting. ‘Al. Let’s find out what’s going on.’ 

His lip curled. ‘How can you -’ 

‘I _swear_ , Al, if you try to play the “my pain is worse than yours” card and don’t listen to me, I will break _your_ nose.’ Finally, something cracked the steel screen that had been across her face since he’d come back, and it was that, not her threat, which made him subside. 

He grumbled and retrieved his wand, but slid it up his sleeve, ready to hand. Then he leaned against the filing cabinet he’d been flung into, back aching. ‘Alright.’ He gave Matt a jerky nod. ‘You can start your blathering.’ 

‘Did you go on a two-year mission to find your inner _arsehole_?’ Matt sneered. He’d pulled out a handkerchief to mop himself up, but his coat and scarf kept their speckles of red. 

Baz blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. ‘This is the best meeting I’ve had all week. You come in, kick off on one of my people, and then start fighting _each other_. Do I get an explanation now?’ His glance included Saida, who, at his nod, did lower her wand. 

Matt retrieved his wand and sword to sheathe them both, before he nodded at Saida. ‘Do you know who she is?’ 

‘Eva Saida. Worked for the Council of Thorns, most specifically, Prometheus Thane. Then she stopped, and now she works for me. Happens all the time.’ Baz took a drag on his cigarette. ‘I take it you know each other.’ 

‘I infiltrated their team when they were hunting for the Chalice,’ said Saida, voice neutral. ‘That was my last mission for the Council of Thorns.’ 

‘Now that’s a thing. You didn’t tell me that.’ 

‘You’ve asked me about the work I did for the Council when it was relevant. It’s never been relevant until now. If you’d told me who this meeting was with, I would have warned youabout this,’ said Saida. Her voice was as he remembered, that wry, matter-of-fact tone. Only Albus had attributed it to a wounded young woman called Lisa Delacroix, not a sardonic, cold-blooded killer. 

‘I suppose we all keep our secrets.’ Baz stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. ‘Saida is one of my most trusted people,’ he said to Matt. ‘She has, for the last two years, helped me in my operations to keep the criminal underworld out of the hands of the Council of Thorns.’ 

‘So, from the Council into _good work_ , I see,’ Albus sneered. 

Baz’s eyebrows raised. ‘You’re here for my help; don’t get _judgemental_ about it, Mister Potter. I’ve been working with the Russian Federation _and_ the IMC since the Council of Thorns became a threat. Perhaps I’ll go back to fighting law and order when all of this is over, but in the meantime, there’s a world to save, and we’re all on the same side.’ 

‘We are _not_ -’ 

‘The Council of Thorns staged an Inferi attack within eye-shot of my place of work. They would have killed me as surely as they killed the _hundred_ or so others. Dozens more have been infected with this new plague, this Lethe, and _Russia_ doesn’t have its Resurrection Stones, its Nathalie Lockett. The cures which _are_ out there cannot be everywhere at once.’ Baz stubbed out his cigarette, eyes tightening. ‘Joachim Raskoph is a madman who won’t stop until the bodies are knee-deep worldwide. That’s why I fight him, that’s why Saida here doesn’t work for him any more. Now, I haven’t thrown you out because Gabriel Doyle and I have done good work together the last couple years - he liked that I helped you in Athens - and because you were Scorpius Malfoy’s friend, but if you keep glaring at me with those judgemental eyes, I won’t give you a thing, boy.’ 

Matt gave Albus a warning look which only inspired greater anger, but Rose was at his side again, and squeezed his elbow. ‘Al, please,’ she murmured. ‘For Selena.’ That, at least, worked, and he subsided into an unhappy silence, settling for glaring at the floor if he couldn’t look at Baz in a civil manner. Saida he didn’t look to at all. 

Baz nodded, and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the desk. ‘Smoke, anyone?’ 

Matt nodded, and pulled up the chair across from him, accepting the cigarette and the light. ‘What happened the other night?’ 

‘The same thing that happened everywhere else. We don’t know where they got the bodies from, or how they got the Inferi into the city centre so suddenly. But then they were here, on a rampage and a slaughter, along with the Thornweavers. Would you believe the Federation shut down the wards to stop anyone getting _out_ of Morana Gate? Even us.’ Baz puffed on the fresh cigarette. ‘Fucking bloodbath.’ 

‘What can they _want_?’ Rose frowned. ‘All they’re doing is killing a _lot_ of people and making everyone hate them.’ 

‘I doubt we’ll see more like this,’ said Baz. ‘This is to remind us they’re here. This is to scare the hell out of us. Then they’ll start targeting heads of state, topple weakened governments like they did in Brazil. I bet every government’s got Thornweavers in place, waiting in the wings, ready to seize power when people stop being angry at the Council, and start being angry at the people who didn’t _save_ us from the Council.’ 

‘You don’t think this is about Raskoph?’ 

‘I think the Council of Thorns is a pack of _lunatics_ who all want different things. Raskoph might be the biggest and the baddest and the one they’re all listening to right now, but he’s trying to please a dead Grindelwald and that means turning the world’s rivers to blood. The question isn’t what he wants, the question is what’s going to happen when he’s beaten, and how much damage he’ll do before we get there. But you know all of this.’ Baz puffed on his fresh cigarette. ‘You came here for a reason.’ 

‘Raskoph _is_ the reason. If this isn’t him, then it’s some of his most important people who’ve pulled off a job for him.’ 

‘Your father said this. That’s why I asked Eva to be here. Which I see was a decision with no drawbacks.’ 

Matt took a drag on his cigarette, visibly steeling himself. ‘The Council of Thorns has abducted Selena Rourke.’ 

Albus heard the hissing intake of Baz’s breath, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing to Saida to gauge her reaction - and there was one, a slight widening of the eyes. He looked away sharply. _Of course that got a reaction. Selena_ _’s Lillian Rourke’s daughter. It’s a big deal._   
  
‘They’ve made no public pronouncements,’ said Matt. ‘But this is going to have been some of his best people. We need to find them, and we need to find her.’ 

‘There’s more,’ said Rose, her voice hoarse. ‘Prometheus Thane and his people were at the attack on Hogsmeade, which is where she was grabbed.’ 

Saida’s eyes narrowed at that. ‘Really.’ 

Albus bit back a comment, but Matt nodded. ‘It’s possible,’ Matt said, ‘they were trying to foil the abduction. The Thornweavers almost killed Rose, but Thane’s men got there in time to stop them, just _seconds_ after they’d got away with Selena.’ 

‘Prometheus Thane is the wildcard,’ said Baz, speaking around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. ‘He goes from Raskoph’s favourite pet, then eight months ago he starts _killing_ the biggest names of the Council of Thorns?’ 

‘He’s killed members of the IMC, too!’ Rose said. 

Saida shook her head. ‘Every person Thane assassinated in the IMC was in the Council’s pocket.’ 

‘Don’t get us wrong; he’s marching to the beat of his own drum, and I don’t know why he suddenly went rogue. Maybe he saw, like so many others, that Raskoph is _deranged_.’ 

‘He had all the evidence to see that two years ago,’ said Saida, derision creeping into her voice. ‘He didn’t turn his back on Raskoph then.’ 

‘While this is all interesting,’ said Matt, ‘it doesn’t get us any closer to where Selena might be.’ 

Baz looked at Saida. ‘Eva? Got any theories?’ 

She shrugged. ‘I still have contacts in the Council, people who like a little money, or aren’t all that fond of what the Thornweavers are up to these days. But this is the first I’ve heard of the abduction of Selena Rourke. Raskoph will have used his best men for the task, absolutely trustworthy people. Nobody who’d talk would know a thing about this.’ 

‘So that’s it?’ Matt squared his shoulders, that same fury and frustration creeping into him as when he’d kicked off on Albus. ‘You have _no_ leads? They can’t have just disappeared into thin air!’ 

Baz gave Saida a look Albus would have sworn was pleading, and her lips thinned. ‘I have an idea where to look,’ she said, ‘but it’s risky.’ 

‘I’ll take anything,’ said Matt. 

Something else flashed across Saida’s face, an emotion Albus didn’t dare read into, and she turned to him, walking over. He squared his shoulders and grasped his wand tighter, until Saida said, looking at a point just past his left ear, ‘I need that cabinet.’ 

‘Oh.’ He slid to one side, closer to Rose, but still trapped between them as Saida opened a drawer and rifled inside. He was close this time without being in a murderous rage, and could see she was as taut as him. He knew the signs from the short months of their acquaintance, their relationship - except all of those had been lies, hadn’t they? He hadn’t really read a damned thing, and she just knew how to play him… 

She pulled out a map and returned to the desk with a haste he knew was because of him. ‘There is a lead we - and the IMC - have known about for some time, but they didn’t want anyone to interfere. We know where they manage, enchant, and supervise all of their illegal international portkeys.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘And the IMC _don_ _’t_ want anyone to interfere?’ 

‘This is something the Council will do anyway. Knowing of this location means we can monitor them, the odd portkey. If the base was hit, then the Council would set it up somewhere else, somewhere nobody knows about.’ 

Baz flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. ‘Saida…’ 

‘If ever there was a time to get their full portkey records, it’s now, after yesterday,’ she said flatly. ‘And whoever came from Hogsmeade with Selena Rourke will have needed a portkey off the _Naglfar_.’ 

‘ _Naglfar_ ,’ Matt repeated with a sigh. ‘Of course that’s what it’s called.’ 

‘So it’s a ship,’ said Rose. ‘A mobile Council command centre to control their magical comings and goings.’ 

‘Most portkeys go _to_ the _Naglfar_ , we think, and then the teams travel on from there,’ said Saida. ‘If it wasn’t working overtime during the unleashing of Lethe, I will be surprised. There’s only one problem.’ 

‘Just one? In hitting one of the Council of Thorns’ most valuable bases?’ She arched an eyebrow. 

Saida grimaced. ‘One first problem, then. We’re not sure where it _is_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naglfar _is a ship from Norse mythology, made entirely from the bones and fingernails of the dead. In Ragnarok it will ferry the forces who will do battle with the Gods. This is how Rose and Matt pick up right away that the Portkey base is, in fact, a boat._


	9. In Nightblack Arms

‘Dad can get us a portkey to Denmark, if it is in Denmark,’ said Matt, bent over the map laid out on the table in their safehouse. ‘But from there we’re on our own.’ 

‘We can call reinforcements, _surely_.’ Rose furrowed her brow. ‘We have a lead -’ 

‘We’ve got nothing,’ said Albus. ‘We _think_ the _Naglfar_ is in Denmark. Even if Baz’s people can get us a more definite location, that’s nothing conclusive. There must be dozens of reports of Thornweaver activity worldwide over the last two days. The IMC can’t chase them all.’ 

‘Your father had a team to us in Ager Sanguinis within twenty minutes.’ Rose looked at Matt. ‘You’ve got a whole operation which acts independently of the IMC.’ 

‘An operation which is, right now, as thinly-spread as the IMC. Your fathers are running around North Carolina because the Americans need their help. De Sablé’s up to his eyeballs trying to find out _what the hell_ the Council got their hands on to create Lethe. We’re not a large group, and most people are helping him.’ 

‘We can put the call out,’ said Al, ‘but who’re we going to bring? People who haven’t waved their wand in earnest in years? People whose only experience of a fight is a classroom? And even _if_ we get a definite lead, you heard them. The IMC might not even want the _Naglfar_ hit.’ 

Rose frowned at him. ‘You’re saying we shouldn’t tell anyone we’re doing this, because they might stop us?’ 

‘I’m sure Lillian Rourke wouldn’t. But Lillian Rourke is subject to her advisers, an international team of experts, whose operations might be disrupted by hitting the _Naglfar_ before they’re ready. I don’t _care_ , but I think it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’ 

Matt nodded, jaw setting. ‘It’s just us,’ he said. ‘Like always.’ 

She looked between them, trying to not glower. _Of course_ this _is the topic where you decide to team up. The part which requires us to be macho loners lunging into an abyss._ ‘It’s never just been _three_ of us. And unlike you two, I haven’t been running around looking for trouble these past two years -’ 

‘You did fine against Castagnary and his goons. Don’t pretend you’ve not kept up your skills. We’re not little kids any more. We’ve probably got more experience than most professionals.’ 

‘Maybe we do.’ Rose looked between them. ‘But I don’t want to get _killed_ ; I want to rescue Selena -’ 

Matt scowled. ‘We want that too -’ 

‘Not as much as _either_ of you wants to _prove_ something!’ 

Her voice echoed in the small room, with its bare walls which made her anger reverberate around them, and it was enough to make both Matt and Albus straighten. But before either could summon a response, there was a knock on the door, and Matt turned. ‘That’ll be Baz with a location. Hopefully.’ 

But he opened the door with his wand in hand, and it came snapping up when he saw Eva Saida stood there. 

She lifted her hands, one of which held a manilla folder. ‘I come in peace. With information.’ 

Matt grimaced. ‘Did Baz _have_ to send you? I’d rather not break up another fight.’ 

Albus didn’t move from the table, broad shoulders still squared. ‘I’ll behave if she does,’ he rumbled. 

Saida stepped inside as Matt let her, and moved to the opposite side of the table to Albus, next to Rose. ‘I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that I was wrong about Denmark; the _Naglfar_ left Copenhagen almost twenty-four hours ago.’ 

‘Tell me the good news is a lead,’ said Matt. 

She nodded. ‘Rotterdam. I had to check discrepancies in their berth logging system and reports from Muggle dock-workers with minor confusion and inconsistencies which match the effects of the charms the _Naglfar_ uses to disguise itself. All very discreet, if you don’t know what to look for.’ 

‘Does the IMC know what to look for?’ asked Albus, gaze tight. 

‘You were _just_ suggesting we rush off without telling the IMC,’ Rose pointed out. ‘Let’s do what we have to and worry about the wider world later.’ 

‘Agreed,’ said Matt. ‘If they’re in Rotterdam, we can get transport there easy. We locate the specific berth, check the place out; repeat what we did with the Rabbit’s Foot if we have to, snatch a guard and Rose interrogates them. From there, we cook up a strike plan -’ 

‘There might not be any guards disembarking,’ Albus said. ‘Rose’s Legilimency is rusty, and it took us a _week_ to form the Rabbit’s Foot plan, with recon. If the _Naglfar_ left Copenhagen for Rotterdam, it might stay on the move.’ 

Matt grimaced. ‘What’re you suggesting; we jump to Rotterdam and hop on board, wands blazing?’ 

‘No, I’m pointing out that you’re leaping to conclusions.’ 

‘I am _trying_ ,’ snapped Matt, ‘to find Selena. You, on the other hand, are being an obstacle at every turn.’ 

Rose lifted her hands, chest thudding. ‘If you two are going to keep at each other’s throats, then I’m out. I want to save Selena, but if we’re fighting amongst ourselves like this, we don’t stand a _chance_ against a Council command centre.’ 

Albus’ expression set. ‘We cannot be naive about this. We must prepare for every eventuality, and be ready to deal with the Council’s best people.’ 

‘And you think the three of you can take them on?’ 

All eyes snapped around to glare daggers at Eva Saida, who remained impassive. She shrugged. ‘I mean you no offence. I’m aware of your competence. But you’ve never made a strike against a Council stronghold before.’ 

‘And you have?’ Matt arched an eyebrow. 

‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘And I spent a long time _with_ the Council, with their people. I know how they work. I know the wards and defences that they use.’ 

‘Then tell us,’ said Rose. 

She shook her head. ‘It’s more complicated than that. You know magical defences are. They could use a dozen different configurations; I couldn’t tell you what they’re doing until it was in front of me.’ 

Matt’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you asking to _come with us_?’ 

‘Absolutely not!’ Albus slammed his palms on the table. ‘I’ll tolerate your presence and your help if it’s going through Baz, because people _I trust_ have trusted Baz. But to have you at our backs? No way. No _bloody_ way.’ 

‘Do you want Selena back?’ Saida challenged, and Rose noted how she still couldn’t look Albus in the eye. ‘Because you can’t do this, just the three of you.’ 

‘I accept that likelihood,’ said Rose, and her stomach began to clench into an old, familiar knot. ‘But you betrayed us to the Council. I don’t care that you got cold feet and then let us go; you betrayed us in Venice, and that got Scorpius killed.’ 

The look Saida threw Albus for a heartbeat was oddly accusing, then she turned to Rose. ‘I didn’t betray you in Venice.’ 

‘So you say,’ Albus growled. 

‘It’s the truth!’ She gritted her teeth. ‘I got into the job to spy on you, yes, and report back on what happened in your search for the Chalice. But I was given that job by Prometheus Thane; _Raskoph_ was responsible for the strike on Kythos. I realised then that if I gave reports to the Council, there was a good chance that Raskoph would kill me to wipe out the lot of you. The last time I had contact with Thane was after Tomar, and that was telling him I was going off the grid until I had the Chalice itself.’ 

‘So you stayed quiet until Venice.’ Rose folded her arms across her chest. 

‘Think about everything that happened. I killed Elijah Downing, yes. And that _was_ partly because, if we caught him, you’d have used Legilimency on him and I’d have been outed. But you know what Downing wanted? He wanted to kill you on Brillig and take your research and continue the hunt himself. It was a good argument. An argument someone loyal to the Council’s cause couldn’t object to. So I had no choice.’ 

Rose grimaced, but before she could find a retort, Saida had continued. ‘Then there was Cat Island. I risked my life to buy you time to get the Chalice. I didn’t have to do that.’ Her voice was low but firm; impassioned without fire, a cold sort of determination. ‘I intended to _leave_ in Venice,’ she continued, and didn’t look at Albus at all now. ‘You had the Chalice. You’d be home soon. I was going to slip away in the night and be long gone before either you or the Council realised I was missing. I literally _ran into_ Thane and his men when I was on my way out.’ 

‘And ran back to his skirts,’ said Albus. 

Now she _did_ throw him a defiant look. ‘I lied to save my neck. If I hadn’t done that, you would all probably be dead. There was nothing in the world, not one thing, compelling me to betray Prometheus Thane and Raskoph in Ager Sanguinis and help you break out. _Why_ would I do that, if I’d given you to them with a bow on top?’ 

Rose fell silent. The words struck true, but they were thudding against a conviction which had sat in her bones for two years. She hadn’t _hated_ Eva Saida, because hate was for those capable of feeling, and certainly the blame for Scorpius’ death had fallen more heavily on Joachim Raskoph and Prometheus Thane. But Saida’s betrayal had been a truth for all this time, and when it came to the details surrounding Ager Sanguinis, Rose’s usual logical thought was not as fluid. 

‘If you changed your ways,’ Albus said, glaring broadswords at her, ‘then why didn’t you hand yourself over to the IMC?’ 

‘So they could lock me in prison, throw away the key, and pester me only to loot my brain for intel on the Council?’ Eva Saida raised an eyebrow. ‘I said I didn’t want to be on the side of Raskoph’s lunacy or Thane’s _using_ of me any more. I didn’t say I’d become an idiot overnight.’ 

‘Facing justice isn’t idiocy.’ 

‘Whose life would be _better_ by my being punished? Who would be safer, who would be happier? Who would be brought back from the dead?’ She shook her head. ‘Nobody. But Baz doesn’t care about my background. Lots of people are in my position; we worked for the Council of Thorns until we realised _quite_ how insane they are, and now we want out, but we don’t fancy jail-time.’ 

‘So you can pretend you’re absolving yourself of your sins while conveniently avoiding consequences,’ sneered Albus. 

Eva Saida’s expression didn’t change. ‘I said I’m not an idiot. There _is_ no absolution. There’s only the time I have left, and what I do with it.’ 

‘Poetic, but -’ 

‘She can help,’ said Matt. 

Everyone fell silent, stunned - including Saida. Rose fought to find words before Albus could explode again, throat tight. ‘I’m not sure I can give an opinion on this.’ It wasn’t the most helpful contribution, so she pressed on. ‘I _do_ believe that she didn’t betray us in Venice, though. Which is a problem.’ 

Albus made a face. ‘That was two years ago -’ 

‘And if _she_ didn’t betray us, then who did, Al? Who knew where we even _were_? We went there _explicitly_ to avoid detection.’ 

‘While I agree that’s important,’ Matt said, lifting his hands, ‘it’s a problem for _after_ we’ve rescued Selena. And this isn’t about her story, this is about her working for Baz for the last two years. Baz isn’t an idiot; he knew this meeting was important, and he wouldn’t have brought her if he couldn’t rely on her. We trusted Baz with our lives before, didn’t we? _Scorpius_ trusted Baz when we couldn’t trust anyone else. I say we trust her, through Baz.’ 

Rose bit her lip. ‘We _are_ going to need help. Even if that help’s just an extra wand-arm, we can’t call in backup.’ 

Albus didn’t move, hands still planted on the table. She could see how stiff he was, see the tension in the sinews in his powerful arms. ‘There is no way,’ he said in a low, deliberate voice, ‘that I’m going into a fight with her by my side.’ 

‘Then I guess we’ll see you back in Britain,’ said Matt bluntly. 

Al looked up. ‘You’re -’ 

‘We need her.’ Matt straightened to his full height, which meant he still had to lift his head to look Albus in the eye. ‘And I dare say we need her more than we need you. I owe you nothing, and getting Selena back is _absolutely_ more important to me than your feelings. Selena’s your friend, you say? You _ran out_ on us. On her, on Rose, on all of us. Now is not the time for you to play the card of being “one of us” so we value your opinion. You’re _not_ one of us, Al. By your own choice.’ 

Rose knew she’d win no prizes in self-awareness for noticing she’d grown colder over the last two years. But it was only now when she looked at Matt, saw the steel in his grey eyes, saw how tall he stood, that she realised he’d grown, too, and grown harder from experiences she’d never seen, never known, never understood. While she had wilfully ignored all the signs that he was hiding something from her, he’d been becoming a new person, and she had to wonder if she even knew that man. 

Albus stared at Matt for a moment, then his gaze went to Saida. Rose would have sworn he flinched before he said, ‘Why do you even _want_ to help us? It looks like you’ve got a good gig here with Baz.’ 

‘If I told you,’ said Eva Saida coolly, ‘would you believe me?’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘Probably not.’ 

‘Then I think I’ve issued enough self-justification for one day. It’s decided?’ 

Matt looked at Rose, who managed a stiff nod despite herself. ‘It’s decided.’ 

‘Good.’ Saida reached for the file to rifle through more papers. ‘I know which berth they’re at. I agree with - with Potter, I’m not sure we’ll be able to snatch a member of the crew for Weasley to interrogate. But this is a location which relies heavily on secrecy; too many people and they won’t be able to keep a low profile. I don’t think the Council knows we know about the ship, so a full assault isn’t the worst plan in the world.’ 

Rose took a deep breath, and felt warmth cram in with it as her mind started to rattle along, cogs whirring which had been still for years. She had looked at intellectual challenges, magical and research-based, and done fine. But this was people, problems, life and death, and old instincts were rearing their heads. ‘Then we want to find a way to cut off their communications and ideally their portkeys. Stop them from calling in reinforcements, and stop anyone from dropping in.’ 

‘Swiftness will be key,’ said Saida. ‘They’ve got to be _able_ to raise the alarm, and if we sneak on board we can get the drop on them.’ 

‘And if they have security charms,’ said Rose, ‘we can turn their spells to _our_ advantage.’ 

Saida grinned, a flash of satisfaction like a knife cutting through her mask - then smothered it almost as quickly. It was, Rose acknowledged with a grimace, no different than the surprised, pleased smirks Lisa Delacroix had given them. 

‘Rotterdam it is,’ said Matt. ‘I’ll get on the Floo to Dad, see what he can do for us.’ He looked at Saida. ‘Pack your gear; we’ll be gone in two hours.’ 

‘I’d expect three, under the current circumstances of international travel,’ she said, ‘but very well.’ 

They both left, Saida without a look behind her, Matt to the closed room for Floo communication and transit, leaving an array of maps and scribbles on the table, and a motionless Albus. 

Rose took a slow breath. ‘You’ve seen her since Ager Sanguinis.’ It wasn’t a question. 

He planted his hands on the table, shoulders squaring. ‘Berlin. A couple weeks after I left Britain. She sought me out.’ 

‘And you didn’t think that’d be important?’ 

His expression twisted. ‘Why would it -’ 

‘We spent _two years_ thinking she was the traitor!’ The words bubbled up from her throat, catapulting Rose around the table to grab Albus by the arm. She had to stop herself from trying to shake him; not that she’d have the strength. ‘I thought she’d sold us out and then got cold feet!’ 

‘How can you believe her -’ 

‘She freed us, and then _left_ the Council! There’s no loyalty to them! No manipulation of us! Why would she lie?’ 

‘Because _that_ _’s what she does_!’ He turned to her with a snarl, lip curling. ‘She lies, she tricks, that’s _who she is_. I can’t _believe_ you and Matt are okay with her being here!’ 

‘This isn’t about that! She didn’t explain anything in Ager Sanguinis, but she came to you _after_ , professed innocence. I’m not saying _all is forgiven_ , but at the very, _very_ least, you owed everyone back home a warning that _someone else_ sold us out to the Council! Or of the _possibility_!’ 

‘There was no possibility,’ he rumbled, ‘because she’s a liar. They were empty words.’ 

‘I don’t think they were. Which means somebody else who knew we were in Venice told the Council. Doesn’t that _scare_ you?’ 

‘Does it matter?’ 

‘ _Nobody knew_! Except - oh, shit.’ 

He frowned as she put a hand to her forehead. ‘Except what?’ 

The hand slammed on the table. ‘Scorpius wrote to his father before we left Andros Island. He wanted to talk to him after what happened with his mother - but had to write some things down first. I think that letter might have mentioned Venice. I’m not sure; I didn’t see it, I don’t remember what he said.’ 

Albus hesitated. ‘You think Draco Malfoy sold out his own son? They used _him_ for Lethe!’ 

‘How is that harder to believe than that Eva Saida risked her own neck over and over for us, sold us out, then decided to help us escape?’ She watched him flinch again, watched his jaw tighten. ‘I cannot believe you’ve sat on this for two years, letting Malfoy, or _whoever_ betrayed us, get away with this. _They_ are as complicit in Scorpius’ death as Thane, as Raskoph, and they have walked away from this!’ 

‘All I did was refuse to pass on her lies. You’re making a huge mistake in trusting her.’ 

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Or is it too hard for you to consider she might _sometimes_ tell the truth?’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘Because then you might have to accept the possibility she really _did_ love you?’ 

Then he was right in front of her, looming and red-faced. ‘You have no clue - no right -’ 

‘I have _every_ right.’ He was huge, using his bulk to intimidate like he never used to, ruthless in using every weapon at his disposal. Rose’s voice came out like granite nevertheless. ‘Because I was the one who stayed. You’ve been a _coward_ for two years, Albus. Matt’s right; you don’t get to lecture us.’ 

‘ _Matt_ _’s_ right?’ A mocking tone crept in. ‘Maybe, but have you noticed how he’s just about ready to set the world on fire to get Selena back?’ 

He had mastered, Rose thought, Scorpius’ art of hurting everyone else when hurt. ‘I’ve noticed,’ she said in a low, flat voice, ‘and that’s none of your business.’ 

‘And Eva Saida and I,’ said Albus, ‘are none of _yours_.’ With that, he turned on his heel to stalk into the bunkroom. 

Rose let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, loosened the grip on her wand she hadn’t realised she’d taken. She was almost certain that Albus wouldn’t hurt her, but ‘almost’ wasn’t good enough when she saw how much he’d changed in two years, and when all of her survival instincts were fired up. 

So she almost blew Matt’s head off by reflex when he stepped out of the Floo chamber, his expression so wooden she knew he’d heard the key points of the argument. ‘Dad can get us to Rotterdam in a few hours,’ he said, voice bland. ‘I didn’t tell him why. What he doesn’t know, he can’t be implicated in. But he did have some news.’ 

She raised an eyebrow and accepted they were all going to pretend nothing had just happened. ‘News?’ 

‘Selena was looking into a magical corporations who were suspected of smuggling unknown goods into and across Europe; this was her latest story for the _Clarion_. Turns out that these corporations have all been bought out by the same coalition. And, based on the locations of the warehouses… Dad reckons that he knows what they were smuggling in: Lethe.’ 

That wasn’t what she’d expected. ‘You’re saying Selena was chasing a lead on how the Council got the virus into countries in the first place?’ 

‘Makes me wonder if she was grabbed for reasons other than being Lillian Rourke’s daughter. Maybe she knew something she hadn’t passed up the chain.’ 

Rose’s brow furrowed. ‘If so… I don’t know, it would have to be something she didn’t know was important. Selena’s got a great poker face, but we were having drinks together, _nothing_ about a huge secret at work - I don’t know. Who’s behind this coalition?’ 

‘We don’t know, yet,’ Matt admitted. ‘But Dad’s on the case. Lot of Ministerial records on corporate buy-outs - they get legal oversight on this - which he’s going to have to get his hands on, and the Ministry isn’t exactly being forthcoming right now on handing out information.’ 

‘But this could be about Lethe.’ 

‘Could be. It’s just a theory. And this is the Ministry; are you surprised? Halvard wouldn’t dare sneeze if it might make him look weak. And I bet from now he’ll have to ask Lillian Rourke for a tissue.’ He scratched his ear. ‘I also told him to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy.’ 

She nodded, and didn’t let her expression change. ‘Good. It’s just a theory.’ 

‘It makes sense.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets, then glanced to the bunkroom. ‘And - I’m going to do some training while we wait. Unless you wanted the room.’ 

That she was not invited to join him couldn’t have been clearer. Rose shook her head. ‘No. I’ll read a little out here. I may need to brush up on my Legilimency techniques.’ 

‘Not volunteering for playing guinea pig.’ His smile, while trying very hard, didn’t reach his eyes, and he turned, awkward, to leave for the bunkroom. 

She didn’t stop him. Selena’s abduction was bringing them together, dragging Albus to them and forcing secrets past Matt’s walls. But with every step, Rose could see more and more how that closeness was in sore danger of ripping them apart with its honest truths.

* * 

Rotterdam gleamed against the darkness, a reflection of the stars above amplified a thousand times and speckled with gold. The daily business of the harbour had quietened down, the only activity from ships which had no choice but to come in at a later hour, and there were none of those at the derelict section of the docks Eva Saida had led them to. 

Apparition and charms got them past the security measures without trouble, and they’d had the good fortune to find an abandoned guard post overlooking their target. It hid them from sight as effectively as it sheltered them from the cold, and it made an excellent staging post when they had only a few hours of prep-time. 

‘Those anti-incursion charms are going to be a problem,’ Saida was saying to Matt and Rose, the three of them around the table on which sat their diagrams of the area and the _Naglfar_. ‘They’re going to need to be down before we’re within twenty metres of the ship, or everyone on board is going to know about us.’ 

‘Those have to be detecting magical signatures,’ said Rose. ‘Or they’d go off every time a seagull came close. They have other ways of keeping Muggles back; this has to be for security against wizards.’ 

‘I agree, but transfiguring ourselves into seagulls isn’t going to be enough.’ 

Matt leaned over the diagrams. ‘How far down do the detection wards go?’ 

Saida shook her head. ‘It’s a bubble, so far as I can tell. No way of breaking in from above or from under the surface.’ 

‘That’s going to give us a hell of a time of getting past them without being noticed,’ Matt said. 

Rose furrowed her brow. ‘If they detect magical signatures, not physical presences, we might be able to do something to reduce that. Like not having our wands when we cross the threshold.’ 

‘That would still send up a ping,’ said Saida. 

‘It would. But what if we combined it with a false alarm? Use illusions to have something which looks big but turns out to be innocuous approach from one side, and slip in from the other just after. They’ll investigate, see our diversion, and assume that’s what we were, too.’ 

Saida raised her eyebrows. ‘What kind of false alarm?’ 

‘Nixe,’ said Matt. ‘Local water spirits. They could detect the magic around the boat, get curious. I bet you don’t get many in the harbour, but they do sometimes wander this close to shore. At worst, if we fake them coming from the opposite side, we can draw the attention of the crew long enough to slip on board and take them out.’ 

Saida gave a slow nod. ‘It depends on what Potter has to say.’ 

Albus himself didn’t arrive for another ten minutes. The door burst open with nobody in sight, until it slammed shut and he appeared all of a sudden, yanking off the Invisibility Cloak. He’d stripped down to swim, and was sopping wet and shivering. ‘Charms,’ he gulped, grabbing a towel off Rose gratefully, ‘only do so much in the _North Sea_ in _October._ It’s fucking freezing in there.’ 

‘Good,’ said Saida, who hadn’t lifted her head at his arrival. ‘It’ll make the Thornweavers less willing to investigate the waters.’ 

‘What did you see?’ said Rose. 

He dried his hair, then wrapped the towel around himself. Warming charms came from his wand, but they would take a few moments to kick in. ‘Six on the deck. Regular patrol routes.’ He paused in his charming to tap the wand on the diagrams, leaving moving markers. ‘I couldn’t get below deck, no doors out of sight and none of them were open. I think we’re only looking at another six or so below decks. Could be more, probably isn’t less.’ 

Saida nodded. ‘So, twelve to fifteen or so Thornweavers, possibly more. We absolutely don’t want an open fight. Even four against six on deck could be vicious. We have to take them out before they can report to those below.’ 

‘There’s more,’ said Albus, his expression taut. ‘I overheard two of the Thornweavers talking. Erik Geiger’s running this operation.’ 

They all fell silent. Even Rose, who had kept the least up-to-date with the affairs of the Council of Thorns, knew the name. Geiger had been one of Acosta’s right hand men in the administration in Brazil, but was credited with helping Raskoph’s takeover. Theorised to be a descendant of a Thule Society member who’d fled to South America after the war, his was a formidable reputation. 

‘I guess that means they’re taking this place seriously,’ said Matt. 

‘I would say this guarantees the _Naglfar_ played a key role in the Lethe attacks,’ Saida said. ‘And it guarantees we are going to have to do everything right.’ 

‘Then it sounds like we have a plan,’ said Rose, and brought Albus up to speed.

* * 

The _Naglfar_ was a long, ugly freighter, very old and very battered, and having already snuck on deck, Albus knew that wasn’t an illusion. Magics kept it going, magics kept it reinforced, and magics even kept it from drawing too much attention, though its derelict appearance helped. It was larger a dozen crew needed, though he presumed the enchantments to prepare Portkeys to transit someone across Europe and through all international transportation barriers would be big and probably had a power source. But it was a distance from the harbour, and he could walk across the pier without fear of being spotted. Even if he was, he was just a figure walking on the shore a distance away, no threat to them. 

Saida had gone to double-check the wards while they rounded off the plan, and so Albus only had three out of their four wands on him. He could see her sat atop one of the shipping containers abandoned on the dock, overlooking the harbour. 

His clamber to join her was not quiet. He was a big guy and the container was metal and she was a professional. The tension in her shoulders as he pulled himself up was visible, and he heard her slow exhale as she lowered her wand. ‘It’s time?’ 

‘Unless you found something specific.’ His voice came out gruffer than he meant it, habitual by now. 

‘No. The wards haven’t changed. They didn’t notice you slip on board.’ 

‘If they could detect the Invisibility Cloak, we’d have a world of new problems.’ 

She stood, dusting herself off. ‘No. Just the problem in front of us.’ 

His jaw tensed. ‘You’re not in the habit of looking at the big picture, are you?’ 

Eva Saida lifted her dark-eyed gaze to meet his, calm, emotionless, and he fought to not flinch. ‘The way I hear it, neither are you these days.’ 

‘You don’t know -’ 

‘I know you went, and I know you stayed gone.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t expect you to forgive me or trust me. Maybe work _with_ me on this mission, but that’s the choice all of you have to make. So don’t assume I have an ulterior motive when I say this…’ 

He cut her off. ‘I will always assume you have an ulterior motive.’ 

‘So I see. But you shouldn’t hide from a truth, just because it makes you regret your past choices, just because it makes it uncomfortable for you to look at yourself. I know.’ 

His lip curled. ‘I don’t know what -’ 

‘You left because of _me_.’ Now she looked away, and her voice had dropped from the cold, professional tones to that softer uncertainty he remembered from the Caribbean, from Venice. ‘Scorpius made you grieve, but I made you run. Because by trusting me you hadn’t just hurt yourself, but got him killed. You weren’t ready to hear me profess my innocence two years ago. But you are now, except that if you believe me, you have to accept that you ran away for the wrong reasons.’ 

‘That is _not_ the problem,’ Albus said, only half-lying. 

‘Not only. But you’re ignoring a possible traitor in your midst because it makes your _personal_ life uncomfortable.’ 

‘Are you here to help us free Selena, or to play my therapist?’ 

‘You could all do with it,’ she said. ‘It’s like looking at completely different people. The three of you are held together by piano wire; it’s bound you tight but you’re straining hard, and you’ll get sliced up if you’re not careful.’ 

‘You didn’t have to come with us.’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘And you are _all_ far more interested in being defensive than getting the job done. Except for Matt, who’s got the look of a man who’ll let us all burn if it gets him to her. If you _really_ want to help Selena, you could listen to me and acknowledge that your issues and problems are getting in the way of, yes, I’ll say it, _professionalism_.’ 

_We_ _’re a renegade group hunting down the Council of Thorns because we don’t trust the proper authorities to get the job done. There is nothing professional about this._ But that point, however valid, wouldn’t prove her wrong. It would only add fuel to her argument. ‘Then why aren’t you lecturing the others?’ 

‘I think they know this already. Telling them won’t change it. You, however, are wound up so tight by your own damage that if you’re not careful, you’re going to explode and kill us all.’ 

He scoffed. ‘At last, we get to the truth of your concern: risk to you.’ 

‘If I was worried only about my own neck, I wouldn’t _be_ here, Albus,’ she replied, eyebrow arched. 

‘Then why _are_ you here?’ 

She turned away, back to the _Naglfar_ , and her voice was, while low, firm enough that he knew he was supposed to hear. ‘Because I owe you, all of you, including Selena, my unconditional help. And because I couldn’t live with myself if I let _you_ walk into this alone.’ He faltered, and she looked back at him, gaze unwavering. ‘I was going to do you the courtesy of not repeating things you clearly don’t believe and don’t want to hear. But stop digging for some justification for my actions which fits the image you’ve built up of me. That woman doesn’t exist. Maybe she did, but she died somewhere down the line, on Brillig Island or Cat Island or Ager Sanguinis; I’m not sure, but I know that _you_ killed her.’ 

Something in his chest broke. ‘I didn’t ask you to be here. But Matt’s calling the shots, and maybe you’ll be useful, so here you are. Don’t think that means I am even _beginning_ to believe you, let alone forgive you. I will be watching. And if you betray us, if you give me the slightest reason to doubt you, I will kill you quicker than you can blink.’ 

Her lips curled, that confident smile he remembered, the one which reminded him what she was. ‘I didn’t betray you. And I haven’t forgotten you. But I’m not defenceless.’ 

‘Except that you’re going to give me your wand. Because that’s the plan.’ He stuck his hand out, jaw setting, not ashamed of using their plan to exploit her weakness. 

She did flinch at that, and his gut churned like the deepest waters of the harbour. ‘Then I guess we’ll see what kind of man you are.’ She twisted her wand in her grip and extended to him, pointed back towards her. 

He all but snatched it off her, and didn’t say another word as he clambered down from the shipping contained before stalking away. They didn’t have much time. They had to get to work. 

And he had to get her words out of his head. 

_My whole life, you have been the only thing that_ _’s real…_


	10. Confusion and Illusion

Armand Corentin wasn’t sure who he’d upset, but he knew it was someone important. Possibly it was one of his superiors; possibly some cosmic entity. 

It wasn’t that he explicitly _wanted_ to be part of the teams striking across the world. He was a professional, not a man eager for bloodshed, and he had little fondness for the eerie shock-troopers of the Council of Thorns, the raised corpses of the Lethe-infused Inferi. Business was business, so he had neither reservation nor desire for the vicious attacks. 

But he had even less desire to be stuck on the creaking, leaking freighter _Naglfar._ And he had an active hatred for being on the night watch while docked at Rotterdam in late October. 

‘Tell me we’ll be going somewhere warm next,’ he groaned, watching the light-show of the Muggle city squatting against the night sky. 

Reinhardt, on watch duty with him, lit his pipe. ‘In Europe? With winter coming? No.’ 

‘We could go to the Mediterranean -’ 

‘Only _less cold_. Not warm. No, we get no warmth until we transfer to Africa.’ 

Corentin brightened. ‘They’re swapping us with the _Gjallerhorn_?’ 

‘No.’ Reinhardt puffed on his pipe. ‘No, we stay here. In the cold. Waiting. Without hazard pay.’ 

Corentin let off a stream of French curses which had the corners of Reinhardt’s lips curling, but he was cut off by the rumbling at his breastbone. The two men exchanged glances, before they fished out the lockets hung about their necks, flicking them open to show the mirrors within. 

‘Contact,’ came Erik Geiger’s gravelly voice, dark eye gleaming through the mirror from where he was bundled up, warm and dry, in the command centre. ‘Starboard side. Something breaching the wards.’ 

They were at the prow of the ship, but if there was an incursion, reinforcements would be needed. Wands in hand, the two hurried across the deck to where Eisenhorn and Bertonelli stood at the railing, peering into the darkness. Neither looked particularly concerned. 

‘It’s nothing, sir,’ Eisenhorn was saying into her mirror as they got there. ‘Just some water spirits. They must have been attracted by the magic from the portkey enchantments.’ 

Geiger frowned as Corentin looked at his mirror. ‘That’s the bulk of them. One or two approaching from port. Drive them off if they get too close.’ 

‘Yes, sir,’ Eisenhorn said. She sounded as disinterested as she usually did. ‘But they’re not approaching further.’ 

Corentin went to the railing and peered at the darkness. He could barely see the shapes breaking the waves through the gloom, but then a figure surfaced at a patch engulfed by the lights of Rotterdam. There was a shimmer of gold on gold hair, on pale skin, and he gave a crooked grin. ‘It makes the evening nicer.’ 

He’d been careful to speak away from his communication mirror, but Eisenhorn rolled her eyes. ‘Not if they’re interfering with the detection wards.’ She looked at the reflection of Geiger’s eyes. ‘We’re on it, sir.’ 

‘A few spells will drive them off,’ said Reinhardt. ‘You two can handle it?’ He was already grabbing Corentin by the sleeve and pulling him back towards the prow of the ship. 

‘A few water spirits?’ Eisenhorn looked insulted at the implication. 

‘It’s good they pay us so well,’ Corentin muttered as Reinhardt led him around the deck, back towards their patrol sector. ‘Or they wouldn’t have professionals who can handle some _water spirits_.’ 

‘They don’t usually come this close to land.’ 

‘Like Eisenhorn said. Attracted by the magic. And maybe our pretty faces?’ Corentin grinned and elbowed Reinhardt. 

And Reinhardt fell over. 

Corentin’s wand was in his hand before his partner hit the deck, but as he spun he could see nobody. Not an attacker, not one of the other teams - they had gone too far around the ship - and so when the next Stun came spitting out of literally nowhere, he wasn’t ready. It hit him dead on and he collapsed to the deck with a solid _thump_ that rattled his bones and made his head spin. 

Which meant he couldn’t do more than gawk as the shadows shifted and a tall, broad, dark-haired man appeared out of literally nowhere, dripping wet, wand in hand. He stared, trying to work his jaw, lift his own wand, but it was all for nothing at the fresh spurt of magic, the sparks rocketing towards him. 

Then darkness.

* * 

Eva Saida was accustomed to suffering. Physical suffering, emotional suffering, psychological suffering. She had endured it, she had inflicted it, she had attempted to ease it. The last had been her least successful. But there were moments she thought she’d endure all of it all over again if it meant she didn’t have to spend another second clinging to the hull of the _Naglfar,_ engulfed in the freezing waters of the Rotterdam harbour. Warming charms only lasted so long, and she didn’t have her wand. This was going to get dangerous if it lasted much longer.

So when a rope flew over the side, she didn’t stop to question if it was smart to clamber up; she was too damn cold. With a speed that surprised her, she scrambled up to the railing, and her heart lunged into her throat when she saw Albus stood over her. 

It was all part of the plan. But she’d spent so long trying to scrub him from her mind, from her guts, that to see him again when all of her senses jangled with professional alertness was jarring. 

And he’d changed. They all had, including her, but none as much as Albus. He no longer exuded that warmth, and his encouraging confidence had turned inward, a sharp and steely determination. It had been his greatest virtue that his power and strength spread outward, wrapping over others as protection and a reinforcement, but no more did he reach out. 

_You. You did this to him._   
  
Forget Rose’s echoing grief, forget the fire that threatened to engulf Matt, and she wasn’t stopping to wonder what had happened to Selena these past years. This was the man who’d made her turn on her whole world, and in return she had shattered his. 

‘All clear?’ she said as she grasped the railing. 

‘Matt and Rose are at the aft. Starboard still not clear.’ 

She nodded, bracing her feet on the deck. ‘My wand?’ 

He pulled her wand from his belt. Under the shroud of the Cloak of Invisibility, he had got the wands through the _Naglfar_ ’s wards undetected, minimising everyone’s personal magical signatures as they approached. And once on deck, an illusion of mermaids and water spirits to confuse the wards as to what was actually approaching was child’s play. But they had no idea what lay beyond the decks of the _Naglfar_ , and she didn’t want to be unarmed. 

His grip on her wand was tight as he levelled it at her. It wasn’t a proper grip of a man who meant to use it, but she still had a wand in her face, and for a moment their eyes met, blazing dark against green as hard as jade. Her mouth went dry. ‘Albus…’ 

_He could kill me here, lie to the others, say the guards found us. They_ _’d never know. They probably wouldn’t ask._   
  
Then a shadow shifted over his shoulder, and she moved without thinking. His wand was in his other hand, near the rope he’d conjured, and it was for that she reached. He was too startled, locked in his hesitation, and then she had his wand, was raising it, letting off a Stun - 

\- which hit the Thornweaver guard who’d just rounded the corner to see them. 

Albus’ head whipped around as the Thornweaver hit the deck, and the hesitation left his face for shock and, she thought, something softer around the edges when he looked back at her. Shame? He let out a deep, quavering breath. ‘Good eyes.’ 

Eva swung over the railing, and flipped his wand back to him, handle-first. ‘You need to keep _your_ eyes on the mission. You can kill me later.’ 

There was no point in pretending he hadn’t considered it. If only for a heartbeat. Colour rushed to his cheeks as they swapped wands, and for a moment he was the young man whose ideals had infected her, whose good nature had choked to death the woman she’d once been. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘This op goes better if we stop pretending, and if we focus on the enemy. I promise you’ll get your chance once Selena’s safe. In-fighting in the meantime is a great way for _everyone_ to wind up dead.’ She looked up and down the deck before she met his gaze. ‘When this is over, find me. And we’ll finish this.’ If she was honest with herself, she had no idea what would happen at that finish. But it would get them through tonight. 

He turned away without an answer, sent another spell at the fallen Thornweaver to keep them unconscious, and raised his wand up in a ready guard. ‘Let’s get to the others.’ She followed him down the deck, watching their backs, and soon the question of how Rose and Matt’s sweep was going was answered with the sound of magic. ‘Come on!’ Albus urged. 

They rounded the corner to the open middle section of the freighter and burst into a firefight. Spells rocketed across them, and she had to grab the back of Albus’ sopping wet jacket to pull him out of the way of a Stun. But at least they could see both sides of the fight. 

Everyone was spread out. One Thornweaver had Matt pinned down behind a packing crate, spells thudding into the wood and sending splinters flying while all he could do was reinforce his cover with magic so it didn’t shatter. Rose was in a better position, out in the open and up to her elbows in a pitched duel with the other Thornweaver, magic flying between them so quickly that even Eva couldn’t see whose spell was whose. 

‘Stick with me,’ Albus said before she could offer input, and ran along the side of the cargo container they’d emerged from behind, keeping in its shadow with the hope they hadn’t been noticed yet. She was of a mind to split up and reinforce both allies at once, but she knew better than to argue once the call had been made. And she’d trusted his combat instincts once. She followed. 

The Thornweaver on Matt was too focused on trying to blast his cover to smithereens to spot them, but it wasn’t to him that Albus went. He led her to a cargo contained on the port side, to the flank and behind the Thornweaver, and glanced to Eva as their shoulders hit metal. ‘Give me a boost up,’ he whispered. 

She wasn’t sure why he was keeping his voice down under the spray of spells, but without a word she Levitated him up. He could have climbed, even if he’d be noisy and slow; they weren’t about to be noticed, and it was only when she heard the gurgle and thud of a body hitting metal that she realised. 

There’d been a third Thornweaver on a vantage point up high, probably waiting for a clear shot before they struck and revealed themselves. She hadn’t even spotted them. 

Albus’ head stuck over the edge a heartbeat later. ‘I got Matt. Go to Rose.’ 

There was a firefight between Eva and Rose, so that took looping around the back again. Matt was still pinned down, but she could see Albus settling for a clear shot on the Thornweaver raining spell after spell down on him. Al would be timing his strike, making sure he could get a Stun off in a lapse in the Thornweaver’s concentration so it could break through any Shield in one go. But that wasn’t her priority now, not her fight to assess. 

The fight _she_ had to assess was brutal. 

Rose and the Thornweaver she fought had given up on niceties of Stuns. Both women were now hurling slashing strikes that ripped clothes and threatened lethality. Blood streamed down the side of Rose’s face from a cut at her cheek, and the Thornweaver’s left arm hung useless by her side, the bone broken. This had become a fight of kill or be killed. 

Eva’s instincts approved. The crumpled embers of old memories curled up inside her gleamed a strange sort of distress; not compassion, but grieving for something long gone. 

It was those embers, not her instincts, which won as Eva ducked behind a wooden crate and hurled spells to reinforce Rose. The Stun rocketed at the Thornweaver, but sheer bad luck had the woman spin away from the magic. Eva had to duck at the counterstrike - 

Then a heavy, metal shipping container flew through the air and thudded into the Thornweaver. There had to be the most exquisite precision to its movements, because the container stopped the moment it sent her flying, and while the Thornweaver hit the deck hard, she was still breathing. The sparks of Rose’s spell barely died at the tip of her wand before she finished it off with a Stun. 

Eva let out a string of involuntary curse words in her native Arabic, and that had Rose reel around, wand raised before she saw her. 

‘Thanks for the distraction.’ 

Eva stood, blinking. ‘That crate could have _easily_ killed her.’ The impact alone could have been enough, but the slightest miscalculation in its flight would have kept it going, turning anyone into a smear. 

Rose lifted a hand to the cut on her cheek. It had not sliced through her cold, impassive mask. ‘I knew what I was doing. But I wouldn’t have been that sorry. She tried to Avada Kedavra Matt.’ 

_I would have once thought that to be a good reason to_ not _hold back._ Now, she just didn’t know what to say, but the reminder of Matt prompted her to turn to the rest of the fight. Just in time to see Albus launch a spell with surgical precision to take down the last Thornweaver standing. 

‘There’s no telling if they’ve raised the alarm,’ said Rose in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, like she hadn’t just almost turned a human being into a bloodied smear, when the four of them reconvened in the middle of the deck. ‘They’ve got two-way mirror lockets to communicate below decks. I don’t know if they got the chance to send a message.’ 

If her lasting legacy to the Council of Thorns was popularising that form of instant communication, Eva was going to scream. ‘We have to assume they _did_ raise the alarm, and move fast.’ 

‘I say we split up,’ said Matt. ‘It’s confined space below decks; neither our numbers nor theirs will make much difference. We might find records in the command centre, or we’ll need the Portkey rituals to get the transport histories at the very source.’ 

‘Then I’m on the rituals,’ said Rose. ‘I’m the best at unpicking those. Which means I should take Al or Saida; you two are the best fighters, you should be split up.’ 

_No arguments here_. Eva looked between them. ‘I’ll go with Matt to the command centre. If there are additional Council wards or mechanisms there, I’ll have the best chance of figuring them out. And that’s where Geiger’s most likely to be; I know him, I know how he fights.’ 

‘I would prefer to avoid Geiger entirely,’ said Rose. 

‘So would I. But we might not have that luxury. He’s one of Raskoph’s personal favourites; do _not_ underestimate him.’ 

‘We’ve got the plan,’ said Matt. ‘If they raised the alarm, we might see reinforcements from elsewhere. So we’d better move fast.’ 

They split up, Eva leading the way to the aft stairway, the closest access point to where the magical signatures of the wards converged below deck. All of the ship’s defences had to be controlled from there, and if the Council was keeping any kind of records of what happened on board the _Naglfar_ \- which Eva wasn’t convinced would be the case - that was where they’d be. 

The stairway was dank and gloomy, the air stagnant and salty, the walls dripping and mouldy, and they couldn’t advance quietly on metal steps. But it was _empty_ , and so Eva kept her wand up and watched the hatches ahead for of the slightest twitch of movement, Matt close on her heels, sword in hand. She approved. In these close quarters, that could make all the difference. 

But still she had to speak. ‘When did the lot of you become willing to kill?’ 

Matt took a heartbeat longer to answer than he should have. ‘We’ve not killed.’ 

‘No, but if Rose had twitched in the wrong way, she would have turned that Thornweaver into paste.’ 

‘You do what you have to in a fight. She _didn_ _’t_ kill anyone. And suddenly _you_ _’re_ passing judgement?’ His voice was tight. ‘I’ve seen your file, Eva Saida. I know how many people you’ve killed.’ 

‘Like hell has my every kill been identified in official records,’ she said without pride. ‘You didn’t even know I worked for Baz, and I assure you I’ve killed Thornweavers for him in the last two years.’ 

‘And you’re getting uppity about _us_?’ 

‘I would need to be truly delusional to judge. But it’s -’ 

Then his hand was on her shoulder, and she clamped down with iron control on the instincts which told her to blow a hole in his skull just for touching her without her permission. ‘Let me make this clear,’ Matt hissed in her ear. ‘I didn’t want you along because I like you, or because I forgive you, or because I think you shouldn’t be thrown in the darkest, dampest cell when this is over. You know about the Council. You’re a good fighter. That is _it_. So I don’t need your ethical opinions on people ten times better than you.’ 

She didn’t look at him, because then she wouldn’t be looking at the corridor ahead. ‘You want Selena back more than you want to indulge your personal issues,’ Eva said, voice calm. ‘That means that you’re the last person here I’m afraid of.’ 

‘Maybe,’ Matt grumbled, letting his hand drop. ‘But I’m the person here with you.’ 

She could have blasted him against a wall, proved that even with her back to him, she could drop him in a heartbeat. Once, she would have, just to make a point. But they had work to do, more important concerns than their group dynamics, and even though Eva wasn’t convinced the collective damage of the remains of the Hogwarts Five wasn’t going to get them all killed, she kept silent and carried on into the belly of the beast.

* * 

‘If we see Geiger,’ said Rose, ‘we need to open fire as quickly as possible.’

Albus led the way as they advanced down the stairway to the cargo bay. ‘You kept up your fighting skills.’ 

‘The Council of Thorns spent the last few months trying to kill me. Again. You think I had a choice?’ 

‘You’re better than you were. More vicious.’ 

_I don_ _’t know if that’s better._ Getting a look of shock from _Eva Saida_ for her recklessness with lives was not an accomplishment of which Rose was proud. Then again, nothing made her feel proud these days. Certainly very little made her feel guilty, and almost killing a Thornweaver who would have slain her and Matt without batting an eyelid didn’t come close. ‘I want to get through this with all of us alive and safe. Including Selena.’ 

They cleared a doorway to the next stairwell down, saw nothing but gloomy metal and heard nothing but an echoing drip. Albus frowned. ‘The alarm can’t have been raised. There might not be many crewmembers left, but we’d have _seen_ them by now.’ 

‘Unless they’re reinforcing key locations.’ 

‘Except we could just blow this whole boat up and cripple Council operations. No, they’d be intercepting us if they knew we were here,’ said Albus, and swung out into the corridor ahead of her. Then he froze. ‘Shit.’ 

‘What?’ Rose darted after him, wand ready. Then she, too, stopped. ‘Oh.’ 

‘That wasn’t us.’ Further down the corridor lay a pair of bodies, unmoving, their own blood pooled around them. They had the same kind of worn garb as the Thornweavers up top, and they were definitely dead. 

‘Someone else is here,’ said Rose, voice dropping. 

‘And they’re ahead of us.’ Albus gritted his teeth. ‘Forget subtlety. We need to move fast,’ he said, and pointed his wand down. 

‘What’re you doing?’ 

He glanced up at her before the tip of his wand sparked. ‘Shortcut.’ 

She was reminded of the time they’d broken into the Headmaster’s Office in Hogwarts, three years ago now, inspired by the Marauders’ Map and the echoes of his grandfather and his friends. But back then their pressing concerns had been possible danger of possible death, and the teen-aged woes of her romantic tangling and mishaps with Scorpius. 

Not definite death, definite abduction, and the grief of earth-shattering loss. The memory felt like it had happened to someone else. 

But the principle held firm, and within seconds Albus was clambering through a hole in the deck onto the level below, clearing the way before he helped her down. ‘Three decks until the cargo bay.’ 

Searing through the floor made short work of those decks. ‘Let’s _not_ break into the cargo bay like this,’ she said as her boots hit metal for the third time. ‘From the schematics, it’s about five metres high. We might not get an uninterrupted levitation down if someone _is_ in there.’ 

‘Except that every wand is going to be pointed on the stairway,’ said Albus. ‘We attack like this, take them by surprise.’ 

Rose frowned at him. ‘You never used to be this foolhardy.’ 

‘And you used to be less cavalier with lives.’ Albus flourished his wand at the deck. ‘People change. Get ready to move the moment the way’s clear; element of surprise only lasts us so long.’ 

They were supposed to be the level-headed ones. The calm, thoughtful members of their family, the ones who didn’t do foolish, risky things. People _did_ change, Rose had to concede, as the floor burst out from under them, and she dragged Albus down with her, casting a frantic levitation along with a shield. She could protect them, get them to the deck, and he could - 

‘ _Stupefy!_ ’ 

\- hurl down fire at anyone objecting to their rude entrance. 

The cargo bay was a huge metal chamber, dimly lit, devoid of any actual cargo. But it was all the brighter for the ritual markings etched directly into the metal, permanent enchantments woven into the hull itself which could grant the power of a Portkey to anywhere in Europe, maybe even further. They ran across the deck and up the bulkheads, crawled along portions of the ceiling, and gleamed a vivid blue to cast everything with an ethereal, unreal light. 

Including the three Thornweavers who stood with wands pointed at the empty stairway. 

The good news was that they hadn’t expected someone to come through the ceiling. The bad news was that there was no cover, and when Rose and Albus hit the deck hard, the levitation stopping bones from breaking but the impact still enough to rattle them, they were out in the open. One of the Thornweavers gave a bellowed warning in German, and then the air was thick with spells. Albus’ Stun on their descent had staggered one, but not dropped him, and so it was three on two. And one of them was Erik Geiger. 

He was a big man, about the size of Albus, grey-haired and in long, traditional wizarding robes where his comrades wore plain, hard-wearing Muggle clothing. There was barely a flicker in his eye when he parried the first spell she flung, and when his counter-strike thudded against her shield, it was enough to knock her back a few steps. 

‘I’ve got him,’ she hissed to Albus. ‘You take the others.’ 

He only grunted his assent, and like clockwork they moved. They’d not been back to back in a fight in over two years, but old habits died hard, and so there they were, spreading out so the Thornweavers couldn’t focus their fire, close enough that she could help him parry a spell, or so he could fling a distracting blast at Geiger to give her a spot of breathing room. 

Her plan wasn’t to go toe-to-toe with one of the Council of Thorns’ most formidable wizards and win. But she reckoned she could hold him off until Albus dealt with the other two, and then together they could drop Geiger. It was an ambitious plan, Rose had to concede as she was forced to move twice as fast, cast twice as fast, duck and weave and parry with more effort than Castagnary and his goons had ever dragged out of her, but it was the best plan they had. 

And there were heartbeats, as the magic hummed through her veins and the spells shot past her and rattled off her shields and the air crackled with death and power, where she felt more alive than she had since bursting into a chamber in Ager Sanguinis with an iron-clad resolution that failure was not an option. 

She’d failed anyway. She would not do so again. 

Magic fizzed past her ear, Albus let off a spell which dropped one of the Thornweavers, and the odds were shifting to even out, if not favour them - 

Then two figures in the black robes and masks of Thornweavers emerged from the stairwell, and Rose’s heart caught in her throat. _Geiger called reinforcements. We_ _’re fucked._   
  
The new arrivals sprinted across the cargo bay to line up with Geiger and his remaining crewmate. Their opening volley of spells were not subtle, were not sudden, and shields could easily be raised against them in time. But still the magic thudded into Albus’ protections, then through them, then _into_ him, and then Albus was hitting the deck and Rose was stood alone against four Thornweavers. 

Geiger let out a rattling exhale, worn and tired but triumphant. ‘Surrender,’ he said, ‘and I won’t -’ 

Then one of the masked arrivals shot him in the back, and chaos was come again. 

_What the hell is going on?_   
  
Geiger wasn’t dropped, but he and his comrades were turning on one another in frantic confusion, and for a moment nobody was paying Rose any attention. She turned to sprint towards Albus’ fallen form, but then the one who’d shot Geiger pulled off his mask, and a familiar voice rang out, one she’d never forget and had heard not all that long ago. 

Prometheus Thane. 

‘Weasley! Return the favour and give us a -’ 

It wasn’t conscious hatred that made her stop halfway to Albus and turn her wand on Thane. Even if he’d saved her in Hogsmeade, even if she wasn’t sure if Albus was alright, she couldn’t stifle the wave of sheer hatred which turned everything into a narrow, focused tunnel with only one, simple goal. 

_Kill him._   
  
And now it was a three-way fight. Thane was forced back as he had to parry the blasts of Geiger _and_ Rose, with no choice but to go on the defensive, and Geiger and Rose remained happy to take pot-shots at each other. Red and gold and green gleamed against the blue tinge to the metal, shrouding them in a kaleidoscope of spells and pain, and Rose knew that _this_ moment was now the most alive she’d felt in years. 

With vengeance at her fingertips. 

There was a blast from behind her, and she was only dimly aware of Geiger’s ally dropping to the deck. Thane parried her Stun with gritted teeth, and looked to his counterpart. ‘Get her off me!’ he ordered. Even as she broke off from Thane to round on his masked ally, she couldn’t help but give a twisted grin of satisfaction that she’d left him _that_ frantic, _that_ hard-pressed. With or without Geiger’s help. 

But then Thane’s ally was in her face, black mask too dull to reflect the spells flying around them, not even his eyes visible under the dark lenses. He was no Thane, no Geiger, and she could feel magic and hatred bubbling through her veins like a drug, enough to turn his spells aside, enough to hurl blow after blow down on him. He was using Stuns, but she had no such compunctions, and he was forced back, parrying and Shielding and barely able to hold his own. 

Thane and Geiger were entrenched in their fight, and Albus still wasn’t moving, and a small part of Rose’s mind wondered where Saida and Matt were, if _they_ were running into Thane’s men or Geiger’s. But even the concern for Matt didn’t override the fire in her, and so it was with grim satisfaction that she watched her opponent dive to one side to avoid her next spell, his shields not holding. It meant her reflexes were sharp enough that when a shadow loomed to her right, a new assailant she hadn’t expected, she was ready for it, reeling around to hurl her magic at - 

Nothing. An illusionary opponent, just a shape who dissipated at her blast, a diversion. And then a spell from her masked enemy’s wand cracked into her side and sent her flying. She hit the deck hard, head spinning at the impact, and though she kept her grip on her wand, the world didn’t even out enough to let her regain control of the fight. The masked figure advanced, magic sparking at the tip of his wand, and had she been in his situation, she’d have fired right away, finished her off. 

He didn’t, and she had to exploit that error. Not with a spell at him, because he’d be ready for that. Instead, magic burst to his left, hitting the bulkhead with a harmless crackle, and he hesitated. Until the engravings she’d hit, not with a hex but with a spell to unravel that section of the ritual, sparked - and exploded as the enchantments destabilised with a burst of now-uncontained power. 

The world evened out for her as he went flying, hitting the deck with a shout of pain, clutching at his face. He wasn’t, she reflected with dissatisfaction, dead _or_ unconscious, and she rose with her wand in hand, advancing to finish him off. He was lucky he’d worn the mask, she saw as he pulled the charred, smoldering remains away, because otherwise it might have done serious damage to his- 

And Rose stopped when she looked down into the face of Scorpius Malfoy. 

His eyes, more blue than ever in the shimmering lights of the portkey rituals, widened as they locked onto her, and there was that familiar twist of the lips of the wry, sheepish smile that had been etched into her dreams. He drew a raking breath. ‘I told you I’d come back every time.’ 

Blood rushed in her ears, hatred howled away for echoing, cavernous loss, and the tiniest shard of her that could still think screamed at her to act, to cast, to Stun him, to _destroy_ him - that this was a trick, a manipulation from Thane, that she was playing into his hands. 

She didn’t move. And that shard screamed that she was a fool when ‘Scorpius’, realising she wasn’t going to act, rolled onto one knee, lifted his wand - 

And blasted Geiger with a spell that sent him flying through the air, only to be struck by a finishing blow from Thane. Magic echoed through the bay into oblivion, until there was only the gleam of the rituals, the blood pounding in Rose’s ears, and Prometheus Thane and the man who looked like Scorpius Malfoy turning to face her. 

‘Well,’ said Thane, grimacing. ‘This is a bit of a pickle.’ 

‘Rose.’ The man who looked Scorpius lifted his hands, twisting his wand in his grip so it was pointed down, unthreatening. ‘It really is me, Rose, I promise -’ 

‘Not helping,’ snapped Thane, advancing. ‘This isn’t the time to -’ 

‘ _Don_ _’t move_!’ Her voice came out creaky, nearly hysterical, and now her breathing was harsh, ragged, air suddenly insufficient. ‘Thane, I don’t know what the _hell_ you’re doing, but I’m going to kill you -’ 

‘You’re not,’ said Thane, sounding rather tired. ‘Because we outnumber you. You _could_ let us patch up Potter, take the information from the ritual, and then _go_ …’ 

The impostor looked at Thane, his brow creasing. ‘It’s not -’ 

‘I am not blowing this operation because of her!’ Thane snapped. 

They all turned at thudding footsteps on the metal stairway, and Rose felt so light-headed she thought she really might pass out when Eva and Matt, who had a folder tucked under one arm, burst into the cargo bay with wands brandished. 

They, too, froze. And Thane let out a deep breath. ‘ _Eva_. It’s always lovely to see you.’ 

Eva Saida’s dark gaze flickered between the two men. ‘The feeling isn’t mutual. This is sick, Prometheus, even for you.’ 

‘I really _am_ -’ 

‘ _Okay_!’ Matt’s voice rang out to interrupt the man who sounded like Scorpius, authoritative despite the shake. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but Thane, I’ve got you covered, and… whoever the fuck you are, Rose’s wand is on you. Saida, make sure Al’s alright.’ 

‘He’s breathing,’ came Scorpius’ voice. ‘I checked.’ 

‘You’re not talking,’ Matt continued. ‘We don’t have time to stick around. Geiger called in reinforcements; we could have more Thornweavers on us at any moment. But we’ve got the ritual records, so we’re going to get Albus up, and we’re going to _go_. And I swear, Thane, you’re going to get yours some day…’ 

Something flashed in Prometheus Thane’s eye - then he barely _twitched_ , magic flew from his wand, and Matt was knocked into the stairs with a clattering of metal and a yelp of pain. Eva, stood over Albus, rounded on Thane, and Rose knew she was supposed to do _something_ but wasn’t sure what - 

‘ _Enough_!’ That was Scorpius, and it _sounded_ likehim, not like a decoy breaking identity, even though his wand lashed out for a spell to disarm Eva - then, a split-second later, Thane, too. Leaving only the impostor and Rose with wands, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do with hers. 

Thane scowled. ‘Malfoy, this is -’ 

‘This is my operation, Thane.’ The man who looked like Scorpius gave Rose a quick glance, noted the wand she couldn’t bring herself to point at anything, and turned to Albus’ fallen form. ‘ _Ennervate_! Now…’ 

‘This is a trick,’ said Eva in a low, flat voice, gaze going to Rose. ‘This is what Prometheus Thane does. He finds your weak spot, he exploits it -’ 

‘We didn’t know you were here,’ the impostor cut her off. ‘We certainly didn’t have any of my hair lying around for a convenient Polyjuice Potion so we could… what? Manipulate you into cooperating? We’ve been doing perfectly fine with our own people for the last eight months.’ 

Matt sat up with a stiff groan. He’d dropped his wand, but Rose saw him reach for his sword, even if he was a long way away and had no chance of closing the distance. ‘I don’t care to theorise what Thane and his goons -’ 

‘Doyle; you decided to make a pass at Rose on San Salvador. I decided to forgive you on account of you getting yourself a little bit killed after exposure to Eridanos on Brillig Island to save us,’ the man who looked like Scorpius reeled off with Scorpius’ calm, dismissive superiority. He turned to Eva. ‘I… have nothing to prove to you. I don’t care if you believe me.’ Then he looked at Albus, who had sat up with a groan only for them to lock eyes, and there was a long silence cracked by the sound of a leak somewhere dripping onto the metal deck. Scorpius drew a slow breath. ‘We were mates since the Hogwarts Express. I once short-sheeted Oakes’ bed with linen made of Forever-Folding Thread and Professor Tully had to be called in to get him out. We won our last ever Quidditch match against Hufflepuff four-sixty to two-eighty, and you scored thirteen of those goals and I scored eleven, except I’m sure it’s twelve ‘cos it bouncing off Bellamy’s _arse_ and through the hoop should really _not_ count as his goal…’ 

She could see his throat tightening, hear his voice starting to tumble over itself, and it was like she’d fallen into a dream when he turned and his eyes fell upon her. ‘And you… and you and I… we stood in a jail cell in Lisbon and I…’ But his voice trailed off, the words lost, and for long seconds they could only stare at each other. 

_And you said you loved me._

Then Albus was standing, advancing with thudding footsteps, and grabbed the man who looked like Scorpius - to pull him into a bear hug. ‘What the hell - _how the hell_ -’ 

‘I’m sorry - it’s a long story, I’m _sorry_ …’ Scorpius all but collapsed against Albus, clutching at his jacket with white-knuckled fervour, and _that_ was the moment where Rose felt something other than numb shock. Seeing how he turned to Albus, seeing how he returned the embrace, hearing the grief in his voice, she couldn’t help but lower her wand. 

There was too much of a chance this was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _‘Don’t screw around with the fuckhead! Trust the fuckhead!’_   
>    
> _‘Heh, yeah. Trust the fuckhead.’_   
>    
> _\- Transmetropolitan, by Warren Ellis_


	11. I Trust Thee to the Death

  
**I Trust Thee to the Death**

They sat in a tent, wayward friends and lovers and traitors and enemies, and gathered to listen to the tales of a dead man. 

Rotterdam had been abandoned in a mass of arguments and uncertainties, but so long as Matt held the file with the _Naglfar_ _’s_ records and Prometheus Thane wasn’t surrendering to the justice of the International Magical Convocation, they had travelled together. It was a confused cease fire of Eva, Matt and Thane clutching their wands, of Scorpius Malfoy wearing a stupid, exhausted smile, of Rose looking further from an emotional reaction than ever before. 

And Albus feeling like himself for the first time in years. 

‘I’m not the person to talk about… you know, the complicated bits,’ Scorpius was saying, and flashed him a grin as Albus put a cup of tea in front of him. It was the same tent they’d travelled in two and a half years ago, the same mugs, tea made just the same way - milk and two sugars, and for a heartbeat it was like they were hunting Thane again, not sat across a dinner table from him. ‘Thanks, mate. But, yeah. Prometheus could explain it better. Maybe we should start with him.’ 

All eyes turned, with less kindness or confusion, to Prometheus Thane. He’d kept his wand because nobody broached the subject of taking it off him, and it was peculiar to see him in such a humble environment. He looked more worn than when Al had last seen him, his chiselled features pale and gaunt, and his eyes glinted with cold calculation. ‘The death of Scorpius was an enormous setback for the Council of Thorns. They - we - lost the Chalice of Emrys and our chance at Lethe in one fell swoop. You all saw how they fell from grace without either. Raskoph stopped trying to harness weapons and turned to harnessing power, wrestling control of the Council’s assets off Acosta in South America. And I was given a new assignment.’ He looked at Scorpius. ‘I had to do what nobody had ever done before: bring a man back from the dead.’ 

‘Resurrection - true resurrection - isn’t possible.’ Rose didn’t lift her eyes from the table, Matt stood at her shoulder like a jealous shadow. ‘The Chalice brought back Matt within an hour of his death; that’s just a more powerful version of what medical magic can _already_ do. And that nearly didn’t work. But beyond that? Even the Resurrection Stone couldn’t -’ 

‘You can’t bring back someone who’s died, no,’ Thane agreed. ‘That’s the trick.’ 

Scorpius focused most of his attention on Albus. Al knew this was likely so he didn’t have to look at Rose, but it didn’t stop him from giving a wry grin. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I was _dead_. Passing through the Veil was to enter the Otherworld. But I wasn’t _killed_. And I had the Chalice with me.’ 

Matt’s frown deepened from caution to curiosity. ‘It’s an object of both realms -’ 

‘And it can pass between the realms,’ Thane said. ‘If appropriately summoned. Which took a long time, a considerable amount of expertise, and no small expense, but we did it. And because Scorpius crossed into the Otherworld with it, his soul was tethered to it, and so he came back _with_ it.’ 

Albus furrowed his brow. ‘Your body?’ 

‘As a physical object it existed in the Otherworld, with the Chalice. Which is part of how it was possible,’ said Scorpius. ‘But this is starting to get into technical stuff, and it’s not really the point, and I don’t understand all of it anyway.’ 

‘No,’ Matt agreed, ‘and there are other questions. Like why, if you’re Scorpius Malfoy, you’re working with _Prometheus Thane_.’ 

Scorpius looked at Thane, who drew a deep breath and said, ‘The Council asked me, as an expert, to recover Scorpius. They didn’t care about him, but they cared about the Chalice, and they cared about what was in his body: Lethe. Once they had both, they were prepared to kill him again. Which was the point, eight months ago, I decided to go rogue.’ 

Eva narrowed her eyes. ‘Because you just couldn’t stand the thought that they’d hurt him?’ 

Thane gave her a smile that didn’t affect her expression one bit. ‘Because the Council of Thorns are led by Joachim Raskoph, who is _mad_. I’d had enough. Scorpius, I, and some of my oldest associates went renegade, and we’ve been fighting the Council on our own terms ever since. Just like you’ve been fighting the Council on _your_ terms, Eva, in Balthazar Vadimas’ company. And, like you, I don’t fancy being locked in the deepest, darkest cell the IMC can give me.’ 

Albus’ lips thinned, and he glanced at Scorpius. ‘Why’d _you_ stay with him?’ 

Scorpius looked at his tea. ‘It’s - you understand how I _have_ to stop the Council, especially now? They have the Chalice again, they have _Lethe_ again, because of me. Here, I could fight. And there wasn’t a whole lot of reason to come back. This way, I could do the job. No distractions.’ 

_I was gone. Rose had moved on. Your father would never have been enough to bring you back_ _…_ Guilty, Albus dropped his gaze, but Scorpius cleared his throat and kept talking. 

‘We did what we could, when we could,’ he said. ‘We had word that _something_ was coming the night of the Lethe strike, and that’s why we were at Hogsmeade. If we’d had any idea how big it was, we’d have warned the IMC.’ 

‘I did suspect an abduction of Selena Rourke was in the works, now she was back in Britain,’ said Thane. ‘But I didn’t realise that was a secondary objective to unleashing hell.’ 

Rose dragged her eyes up from the table to look at Scorpius’ shoulder. ‘It was you,’ she said in a low, dull voice. ‘In the alleyway in Hogsmeade, that was you.’ 

He grimaced. ‘Yeah. But we were too late to stop them from getting away with Selena. Which is why we made the attack on the _Naglfar_ , once we located it in Rotterdam. Looks like we all had the same idea; trace where that team portkeyed to.’ 

‘Why?’ asked Matt, scowl intact. 

Scorpius blinked. ‘To _rescue_ her -’ 

‘Why did you care?’ 

Albus saw Scorpius’ eyes flash, but it was Thane who spoke, his aristocratic drawl wry. ‘It didn’t sound especially good to let the daughter of the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation languish in the hands of Joachim Raskoph. Not when we _are_ enemies of the Council of Thorns. But Scorpius was right when he said in Rotterdam that this was his operation. She’s his friend. She’s in trouble. We have the resources to locate her and do this extraction.’ 

Eva’s jaw tightened. ‘There are more of you.’ 

Thane nodded. ‘I might conduct a discreet war, but not with a two-man team. There are more of us.’ 

‘The plan on the _Naglfar_ ,’ said Scorpius, _‘_ was to stage an incursion, block off possible reinforcements, and arrive as _fake_ reinforcements; hence the masks and robes. We had to step it up when your strike happened. But once we had the location, yes, we were going to rendezvous with the rest of the guys and probably not break into wherever Raskoph’s holding Selena just the two of us.’ 

‘I’m _assuming_ ,’ said Thane, leaning back in his chair, ‘that the four of you were here to rescue Selena Rourke. Or, well, the three of you.’ His gaze landed on Eva. ‘I don’t know why you do anything anymore.’ 

‘Certainly not because you tell me to,’ came Eva’s flat, taut voice, and Albus could see the tension in her shoulders, that mixture of control, fear and anger he could recognise even after all this time. 

‘Yes, you’re positively your own master these days,’ Thane drawled, then glanced at Albus. ‘Do you come when he whistles, or does he have to at least call your name?’ 

Then Eva was on her feet, fists clenched, eyes wide. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she snapped, and looked to Albus and Matt. ‘He’s a killer, he’s a monster -’ 

‘As much as you are,’ said Scorpius calmly. 

Pity crept into her gaze. ‘Oh, you poor fool - if you are who you say you are, you’ve just let him crawl in your head and play hero, but that’s what he _does_ -’ 

Matt planted his hands on the table, shoulders squared. ‘I don’t care. I _do not care_ about this. Who trusts whom, why he’s back, the history of Thane and Saida - none of this is bringing us closer to our objective: getting Selena back.’ 

Albus drew a slow breath. ‘He’s right. There are a hell of a lot of questions and issues, but that’s our mission, and we have to look to her first.’ 

‘I agree,’ said Scorpius. ‘So I suggest we combine forces. You have the records from the _Naglfar_ , you can see where the team from Hogsmeade jumped with her on the night of the attack. Prometheus and I - and it’ll be just us, no need to bring in the rest of the team - have expertise and experience of the Council of Thorns’ operations; we know how to fight them.’ Thane looked pained at what appeared to be Scorpius’ unilateral decision, but he didn’t protest. 

Matt looked troubled, but it was Rose who answered, Rose who peered at Thane through a veil of hair so thick it could have been another gateway to the Otherworld. ‘Or we Stun them both, call the IMC, and hand over them and Selena’s location.’ 

‘You are assuming, Miss Weasley, that I’m of any mind to come quietly,’ said Thane, his hand still firm on his wand. ‘If you strike for me, we will fight back, we will take those files, and we will go. And you will have _no_ leads on Miss Rourke’s location. You might beat us, but is that a risk you’d have to take. I assure you, I’m no more thrilled about this cooperation than you are -’ 

‘We can’t stand on the outside forever, Prometheus,’ said Scorpius. ‘I wasn’t planning on coming out any time soon, but our hand’s been forced.’ 

Albus stood, and the next breath he drew came with a wave of warmth and calm that was like coming home. ‘Then let’s look in the file, and see where Selena is. The longer we wait, the more likely it is the Council will realise we know, and they might move her.’ 

Matt hesitated, then he put the folder on the table and opened it. ‘This is raw data,’ he said. ‘The Council wasn’t in the habit of keeping meticulous records of all their comings-and-goings, so this is just the output from the rituals.’ 

Rose reached for the papers, expressionless. ‘Then I’ll be the person to decipher it, won’t I.’ Once, she might have been wry. Now there was nothing in her as she rifled through the pages, eyes roaming over the lines of numbers and words which Albus knew included locations but which was otherwise nonsense to him. 

As she read, he looked at Scorpius, whose gaze had fallen on her now her head was bowed. ‘What do you do when this is over?’ 

Scorpius faltered as he met his gaze. ‘I don’t know, mate. Do you go back into hiding once you come out of it?’ 

Albus’ expression twisted. ‘I don’t know.’ 

‘The Brocéliande Forest,’ Rose said abruptly, and looked up. ‘Near to somewhere called Saint Annard.’ 

Reactions came from both Matt and Thane. The latter sucked on his teeth, while Matt swore and said, ‘Raskoph, you sick bastard.’ 

‘Explain,’ said Albus. 

‘Saint Annard was an all-magical French village until a hundred years ago,’ said Matt. ‘Then Raskoph and the Thule Society happened to it, when France was under German occupation in the Grindelwald Wars.’ 

‘The witches and wizards were accused of harbouring Magical Alliance agents, and were ordered to give them up. When they didn’t - they didn’t actually have any - the entire village was wiped out,’ said Thane. ‘It’s been a ghost town ever since. Nobody can say Raskoph doesn’t have a sense for the dramatics.’ He paused, and looked around. ‘And the war crimes. I simply mean it’s “dramatic” under these circumstances.’ 

Scorpius glanced to him. ‘A site of a massacre, and it’s where Raskoph’s had a prized prisoner taken. This can’t be a random location. This has to be important to him.’ 

‘You think it’s where Raskoph himself is hiding out?’ said Albus. 

‘He moves around a lot,’ said Scorpius. ‘If he’s there, he won’t be there for long. But he’s got something he can’t just leave lying around, which is at its safest and most stable if it’s somewhere the barriers between the realms are weaker: the Chalice of Emrys.’ 

‘Then we have our heading,’ said Matt, straightening. ‘We get the maps, plan some apparitions to Brocéliande, and we’ll be there by dawn -’ 

‘No,’ Albus found himself saying. ‘We’re not moving right away.’ 

Matt’s jaw set. ‘The longer we wait, the likelier they’ll move her -’ 

‘Except we broke their transportation hub for Europe, and they have no idea what we know,’ said Albus. ‘Moving Selena is _more_ likely to get them noticed, under the circumstances. More pressingly, we are worn and tired and in no condition to stage a strike on one of Raskoph’s most valued bases. We need a night’s sleep, at the very least.’ 

‘I agree with Potter,’ said Thane. ‘We need to be at our best if we’re going to succeed. None of you look at your best.’ 

‘I could say the same to you,’ sneered Matt. ‘Scrapping with teenagers took it out of you?’ 

‘Or do you want a few hours so you can drop your associates a line and then we wake up with wands in our faces?’ said Eva. 

Scorpius grimaced. ‘We’re not going to do that.’ 

‘You might not,’ said Matt. ‘I’m surprised you trust _him_ -’ 

‘This isn’t up for debate,’ Albus cut them off. ‘We need rest. And if we’re going to work together, we have to trust that we do, at least, have aligned goals for now. Most of you look dead on your feet. Get some bloody sleep. _I_ will go check the wards, make sure communications and apparition are blocked off. Does anyone have a problem with that?’ Thane looked at Scorpius, who shook his head, and none of the others said anything. With no desire to belabour this point, he turned to leave the tent, ducking out from the flap and into the chilly air of north-eastern France at night. 

There had been a certain irony to using the Council of Thorns’ own ritual to let them cross international borders. But Thane had assured them that it would work - and that his parting charm would completely unravel the _Naglfar_ ’s magics, taking time to be rebuilt if it was even possible. Albus suspected Thane had come to the _Naglfar_ with the intention of destroying the ship, along with everyone on board, but this suggestion had not been made in their shaky alliance. Nevertheless, he remembered the slain Thornweavers he and Rose had found. This wasn’t a bloodless operation.   
  
The wards were intact, but he pumped more power into them anyway, because it gave him an excuse to be out of the tent for a little longer. The sky was overcast, and the plain field they’d hopped to cast in such absolute darkness that he couldn’t see any sign of life out here, and certainly no indication anything was going to challenge their protections. But old habits died hard, so when he heard a crunch of a footstep behind him, he’d whirled around, wand in hand, before he knew what he was doing. 

Eva had her own wand half-raised before she stopped herself. ‘You’re jumpy.’ 

‘Do I have any reason to not be?’ Only slowly did he drop his wand. 

‘No. Keep up that paranoia.’ She looked up, dim light from the tent spilling across her face to cast the scar along her jaw into darker shadow. ‘It might keep us alive.’ 

‘Does that mean I should be wary of you, too?’ 

‘If it keeps you cautious.’ Eva thinned her lips as she slipped her wand away, and glanced to the tent before she pressed on. ‘You truly believe that’s Scorpius?’ 

He flinched. ‘I do. Maybe I’m a fool, but he knows so much, it looks like him, sounds like him, _walks_ like him. Why would Prometheus Thane have planned this to infiltrate us? Or have a fake Scorpius up his sleeve _just in case_ he ran into us? If we were at home, in a secure environment, I might press this more, but I can’t afford doubt right now.’ Albus rolled a shoulder. You can call me an idiot -’ 

‘I don’t think you’re an idiot for believing. Prometheus - Thane - he is manipulative and he is cunning, but he’s also efficient. He’ll use theatrics if it serves a purpose, but this would be… melodramatic for him.’ 

‘So he’s the one you think I should be wary of? I suppose you’d know him best.’ It was impossible to keep a sneer from his voice, even though he knew it wasn’t helpful. 

She didn’t react to that. ‘Then trust me when I say that Prometheus Thane is _very_ adept at earning and manipulating loyalties. Maybe that is the real Scorpius. Maybe he’s not been reprogrammed with Legilimency or mind-altering potions. But he’s still chosen to work with Thane for the last _eight months_ , fighting the Council, _assassinating_ people.’ 

‘If that’s Scorpius, if there’s even the _slightest_ chance that’s Scorpius, then I’m not turning on him, I’m not turning _away_ from him,’ said Albus, with a sudden heat in his chest he hadn’t expected. ‘And not for _you_ -’ 

She flinched. ‘I am telling you to be _careful_ , Albus, for the sake of this mission, Selena - for Rose, for Matt, for _yourself_. He’s not telling us everything.’ 

‘I suppose you would recognise a liar.’ 

‘I would. I know obfuscation when I see it. Why he’s with Thane, why he stayed away? Maybe he just wanted to fight the Council without dealing with personal problems, but that’s doesn’t sound like the whole story. I think he’s hiding something. And if he’s not lying, then I worry he’s not dancing to his own tune. For whatever reason, Scorpius _trusts_ Prometheus, and he _shouldn_ _’t_. He might be your friend, he might care for you, but there is a _very_ real risk that he has become Prometheus’ play-thing, and you _cannot_ assume that you have his loyalty like you used to.’ 

‘You’re right,’ said Albus. ‘I don’t assume I have people’s loyalty any more. You taught me a _very_ good lesson.’ 

That made her stop short, the first flash of true frustrationentering her eyes. ‘You want to talk about lessons on loyalty? Prometheus Thane has a talent for inspiring people to follow him to the ends of the Earth. It’s a very rare talent. I’ve only met one person better.’ She met his gaze, undaunted and without shame for once, and before he could answer, she pressed on. ‘Except that you didn’t do it through lying or manipulating, and that’s why you’re better. Or, _were_ better. I’m not sure what you are any more.’ 

‘Neither am I,’ said Albus. ‘But whatever I am, _you_ made me.’ 

‘Then we made each other, Albus, but this is still not the point. I’m not here to reminisce. I said I’d help you get Selena, and I will. Consider this my help: making sure you don’t get stabbed in the back by Prometheus Thane, _or_ by whatever loyalty he’s inspired in Scorpius Malfoy. If that’s even who it is. Lots of people can know _Quidditch_ scores.’ 

Then a new voice rolled across the darkness, and the sound as still enough to make Albus’ heart close into a fist. ‘Aw, c’mon, how many people knew about short-sheeting Oakes’ bed?’ said Scorpius, emerging from the gloom between them and the tent. ‘She’s still a smart girl, Al. You should listen to her.’ 

Albus looked at Scorpius - that rumpled blond hair, longer than he remembered but still artfully unruly, like he’d spent hours perfecting how little attention he gave it. That straight nose, the nonchalant manner with which he walked, hands shoved into pockets, the lopsided grin that reached his blue-grey eyes. It was him, every inch of him, and while Albus couldn’t pretend he understood, he knew the mere sight of his friend was breaking up the chunks of stone embedded in his heart and guts. 

‘I could answer more questions, if you wanted,’ said Scorpius. ‘But I don’t know if that’s going to make much of a difference.’ 

Albus’ expression creased, but Eva took a step back, expression closing into her emotionless mask. ‘I think I’ve said all I can.’ 

‘Good night, Saida,’ said Scorpius amiably as she turned and headed for the tent, and he waited until she was gone before looking to Albus and continuing. ‘I wouldn’t be too hard on her, mate. And I say this as a guy who threatened to kill her last time we met.’ His gaze went wry, but the two fell into silence, staring into the horizon of black sky against black land. ‘I don’t - I’ve thought about what I’d say for a long time.’ 

‘I bet I’ve thought about it longer.’ Albus felt his throat tightening up, and he frowned into the night, voice coming out more rumbling than he liked. ‘If you’ve only been… back, for eight months.’ 

‘Yeah, I - I don’t mean…’ Scorpius sighed. ‘I wanted to come back. These past few months, I mean. I really did, I just - I thought it would complicate things.’ 

‘And working with _Prometheus Thane_ is simple?’ 

‘In a way. Find the bad guys. Fight the bad guys. Sometimes, yes, kill the bad guys.’ 

‘Except he _is_ one of the bad guys, Scorp -’ 

‘And _she_ isn’t?’ Scorpius pointed at the tent, incredulous. ‘But you brought her on board to find Selena.’ 

‘That was Matt’s call!’ 

‘You two seemed like you were getting pretty honest with each other here! Not exactly a professional-only relationship.’ 

Albus drew a deep breath that quavered more than he’d have liked. ‘I believe she’ll help us find Selena. I believe she has no love for the Council. Truth be told, I believe the same of Prometheus Thane. That’s all I need out of those two. But you - I don’t -’ Words he would have once spoken without thought now sounded presumptuous, or even dangerous, like they opened up whole new chasms he wasn’t ready to stare into, and he glared at a spot in the darkness above Scorpius’ head. ‘You’re back, and it’s been so long, and I worry what he’s… done.’ 

‘Listen to me.’ Scorpius stepped in, hand coming up to grab a fistful of Albus’ jacket, but the emotion in his voice was fervour, not anger. ‘I am not Prometheus Thane’s man. This is all one _bloody_ long story, and some of it I don’t know how to explain, and some of it I _can_ _’t_ explain, and right now _really_ isn’t the time. I wanted to come back. I couldn’t. He didn’t stop me, I chose this, I just… didn’t have a choice, if you know what I mean. We’re allies of convenience, and I _do_ owe him, but he’s not - and you’re -’ His expression crumpled, the determination fluttering from his voice, and their eyes met. ‘It’s me, Al. And I don’t just mean it’s not a trick, I mean I’m still _me._ ’ 

‘I know,’ said Albus, the words bursting out unbidden. ‘I know it is, I knew on that _bloody_ freighter, I _knew_ it was you…’ 

Scorpius grinned, _really_ grinned, his eyes brightening with that twinkle which had always made him look younger, before bashfully letting go. ‘You’ve no idea how damn good it is to hear you say that. You’ve no idea how damn good it is to _see_ you.’ 

Albus bit his lip and clapped him on the shoulder, keeping his hand there. ‘I reckon,’ he said, ‘I actually do.’

* * 

Matt was still stood at the dining table, the lights dim but enough that he could read the maps and papers, when Eva ducked back inside. ‘Rose has turned in,’ he said, not looking up, ‘so I’d ask you to be quiet when you go to bed. She needs her rest.’ 

Eva glanced at the bunkroom door and she sighed. ‘I’ll sleep on the couch. You go be with her.’ 

He opened his mouth to argue, then decided he really didn’t want to share a room with the resurrected Scorpius Malfoy and Prometheus Thane. He frowned at the map. ‘Thanks.’ She didn’t answer, heading for the back room, and with a sigh he shut the folder and looked over at her. ‘Do you really think it’s him?’ 

‘You knew him better than I did.’ But she paused, her back to him as she thought. ‘A trick like this isn’t Thane’s style. He likes to paint himself as a good guy. This would just be sick. Then again, if he hasn’t changed these past two years, he’s the only one.’ 

‘Right.’ Matt frowned at the folder, then straightened. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She didn’t answer, which suited him fine as exchanging pleasantries with Eva Saida wouldn’t have felt trite so much as psychotic. He ducked into the bunkroom, keeping his footsteps light, only to find the candles still alight and Rose most certainly not asleep. She was a bundled shape at the foot of the bottom bunk, knees drawn up under her chin, still fully dressed. The candlelight played fire in her hair but darkness in her eyes as she looked up at him, flinching as badly as she might if he’d come in swinging his sword, and he stopped. 

‘Hey. You’re - you’re not okay.’ Astute observation out of the way, he hurried to kneel at the foot of the bed, hands on the sheets. This pattern was well-rehearsed from when he’d find her in the dorms at Hogwarts on a bad day, coming to give comfort but knowing it was best to keep his distance until _she_ reached for _him_. That hadn’t been needed in over a year now. 

Her eyes fixed on him, dark and cavernous, but boring right through him. ‘It can’t be him. He’s gone, it _can_ _’t_ be, how can it be?’ 

‘I don’t know. He knows things, certainly, and Al seems to believe him.’ 

‘He fell, I _saw him fall_ …’ 

‘Yeah. But it’s a big world, Rose, and I don’t…’ Matt extended his hand to put it next to hers, the old code of offering affection, the one she always took. 

Instead, she shied back, and whispered, ‘I’m not going to leave you for him.’ 

_Oh, fucking hell._ Matt blinked. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

Now she grabbed his hand and hauled herself to the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t care what John says, I don’t care what Albus says, I _need_ you, you can’t go. I can’t _do_ this without you -’ 

‘Hey.’ He lifted his other hand to her cheek, breath catching. ‘I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this. We’ll get Selena back, we’ll get to the bottom of everything, and we’ll be okay. You hear me?’ 

She was shaking under his touch, but nodded, fervent - and then she was pulling him to her, and he knew this fire, he knew this desperation. He’d seen it in her darkest moments of grief, but never before had she poured it into a kiss, because he’d been so sure, so _sure_ she was moving on before anything happened with them. But now he could taste the grief and anguish on her lips, strong enough to make him falter. 

‘Matt, please.’ Her plea was a whisper against his mouth, crumpled and desperate. ‘Please, I want you, I _need_ you…’ 

_If she can_ _’t tell you she loves you, now of all times, when_ will _she?_ The thought sliced through the haze of habit and instinct which howled at him to pull her closer, and it brought with it a cold, cruel clarity to fill the gaps. He pulled away. ‘We don’t - we should rest,’ Matt said, and felt a coward. ‘We make a move tomorrow, we need to be at our best. Or we’re no good to Selena.’ _Selena. You_ have _to get Selena back. The rest of the world can wait._ ‘And you need to sleep.’ 

Rose drew a shaking breath, like she was half-drowning still, but she did slide back. He saw colour rise to her cheeks, and couldn’t meet her gaze. ‘You think I can sleep right now?’ There was a wry stab in her voice, but she at least sounded a bit more like herself. 

‘No,’ he conceded. ‘If you want, I’ll charm you.’ 

She looked away, eyelashes fluttering before she nodded. He’d never used a Sleeping Charm on her before, because that sounded like a great way to start down a slippery slope when she’d been in the fits of her grief. Normally, he would have refused to use it on someone in the field, but he preferred the possible risk of her being drowsy in the morning - which he could still use spells to counter - than definitely strung out and exhausted in battle. 

But he was, himself, not sleepy any more. He waited until she was still under the blankets, her breathing deep and peaceful, before he stood and stalked out of the bunkroom. Eva was a silent bundle on the sofa by now, and he could still hear the rumble of voices from outside. That was where he went, fists clenched, jaw tight, into the darkness and towards the tall silhouettes of Albus Potter and the man who claimed to be Scorpius Malfoy. 

Al saw him first, and his brow knotted slightly. ‘Hey, Matt -’ 

Matt ignored him, grabbed Scorpius’ collar, and kicked him in the back of the knee. There was a yelp, but down Scorpius was forced, and Matt shoved his wand in the other man’s neck. ‘Oh, _good_ , you’re not some master fighter -’ 

Scorpius gave a hiss of pain. ‘You’re attacking a man from behind and _bragging_ about it?’ 

‘Matt!’ Albus’ heavy hand fell on his shoulder, voice rumbling with surprise and warning. 

‘Don’t worry, Al.’ Matt didn’t let go of Scorpius, kept his wand firm at his neck. ‘I’m not going to hurt him unless he gives me a good reason. So if you’re picking this guy, who could be an impostor, over me, who’s _definitely_ on your fucking side, you need to take a serious goddamn look at your life and choices.’ He felt Al’s hand falter, and shrugged it off. 

‘So,’ said Scorpius between gritted teeth. ‘You’ve become more _charming_ in all this time -’ 

‘If you’re some trick,’ hissed Matt over him, ‘if you’re some agent of Thane’s here to manipulate us, I _strongly_ suggest you admit now. It’ll go better for you. Because if you’re fucking with us, if you’re lying, if you have _done this to her_ because of some greater scheme, then I am going to boil that face off you, I _swear_ to all the Gods.’ 

Albus took a step back, stunned, but Matt could see Scorpius’ lips twisting into that accusing smile of his. ‘Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Brave Matthias finds the scheme, keeps the girl -’ 

‘You think I’m kidding?’ Matt snarled, ramming the wand into a soft spot in his neck. ‘You think this a _fucking_ joke?’ 

Scorpius growled with pain, twisting his head back to look him in the eye. ‘I think I’ve lived this too long to not be able to laugh at it. And I think you’re not angry about the idea I’m a trick so much as you’re terrified by the idea I’m _not_. So, bad news, Doyle. Be afraid. I’m me.’ 

‘Yeah, you _said_ , real convincing -’ 

‘Does Rose still have those freckles across her shoulders if she’s been out in the sun? That mole on her right shoulder-blade? Does she still do that flicking thing with her tongue when -’ 

His ribcage tightened enough to stop his breathing, stop his heart, turn him into a solid block of anger as he planted his foot in Scorpius’ back and kicked him face-first into the dirt. ‘You son of a bitch…’ 

Albus stepped between them, hands raised, jaw tight. ‘Enough. This isn’t helping _anything_.’ 

Matt’s eyes flashed, but he stepped back, lowering his wand. ‘You’re right. Guess it is him. Guess he’s still a _prick_.’ 

‘Guess you’re still a prickless wonder,’ Scorpius muttered, clambering to his feet. 

Matt stabbed a finger at him. ‘I stand by what I said. Mess with Rose, and I _will_ make you pay,’ he said, then turned on his heel and stalked back to the darkness of the tent. _Perhaps_ some _things couldn_ _’t wait until we got Selena back._ The thought was treacherous, accusing, and he couldn’t make it shut up. Without thinking, he grabbed the file off the dining table before returning to the bunkroom where Rose still slept, oblivious to the world, magic bringing her a peace he could not. 

He stared at her, and knew he should join her. Curled up on the bunk, even in these hard times, was a place where he could hide from his woes, will back the trials and tribulations before him. But the folder hung heavy in his hand, and with a groan he clambered onto the top bunk, sparked up a _Lumos_ with his wand, and started reading. He would be a hypocrite not to sleep, to spend the night studying all the information they had on the Council of Thorns, on the Brocéliande Forest, on Saint Annard. But he knew he’d be a failure if he didn’t spend every minute between now and their operation making ready for it. Because if they didn’t get Selena back, then all of this was _truly_ for nothing. 

And if they didn’t get Selena back, he didn’t know how he’d live with himself.

* *

She knew the darkness, because she saw it night after night. But since she’d woken, darkness had been her morning and her noon, a darkness broken only by the occasional footsteps of her captors. A metal door scraped open, food shoved in. The diatribes of a madman, just the once, because all men like that had to reaffirm their control, their _victory,_ even if she was just a tool in someone else’s war.

But otherwise there was the darkness. And the cold that came more from cool stone underground, the chill that seeped into her bones and her soul and she knew so well, so very well, because with it came the whispers.

Ages gone by. Aches that were by now like scars carved inside her, their marks eternal; these days, they were part of her. Pains that were still recent and raw and like flesh scraped on bone.

And then the new. The torments she thought were just in her head. Only here, in this darkness, in this place, they were as much her prison as the cold stone walls or the hard metal door or the madmen that had abducted her in the first place. And not a single one of her captors cared when she screamed, but she didn’t do it to try to make them stop, because when had screaming ever made anything stop?

Selena Rourke screamed anyway, because that was all she could do in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Brocéliande Forest is a place of true legend in French mythology, said to have played a major role in several Arthurian legends._   
>    
> _The ‘Annard’ in Saint Annard is derived from Annard Noz, which is one name for a Breton myth derived from the Celtic traditions of triple goddesses. Les Lavandières, as they are more commonly called, are three old washerwomen who wash the graveclothes of those about to die._


	12. Man Was Less and Less

‘I don’t want to worry people,’ said Scorpius as they advanced through the shrouded woods of the Brocéliande Forest, ‘but I think we’re being followed.’ 

Matt gritted his teeth. ‘What makes you say that?’ 

‘Because there’s an Inferius behind us.’ 

Between the scant maps of the area and deep concentration, Rose had mass apparated them a way into the woodlands, but they still needed to get to Saint Annard by foot. If it really was a Council stronghold, there would be wardings and protections all over the ruined town, and nobody fancied getting spliced as part of their rescue plan. So they’d arrived a good distance away, all the better to check their advance and conduct recon before charging into danger. 

Except it seemed danger was closer than they’d anticipated. 

Sunlight streamed through the trees, the leaves turning to gold and drifting to cover the path. So when Matt glanced over his shoulder he could see the bone-white, skulking figure some fifty metres behind them at once. On the one hand, the Lethe-created Inferi were not discreet creatures. On the other, who knew how long it had been following them? 

‘Shit,’ he said. 

‘Yes,’ Scorpius agreed. ‘And it’ll stalk us until it can strike, and run if we try to take it down now. Just like Brillig.’ 

Matt glanced at Rose and saw her lips thin. ‘Where there’s one,’ she said, voice low and flat, ‘there’s always more. Is this a perimeter defence?’ 

‘Probably,’ said Thane. ‘And possibly storage. The Council deployed scores of Inferi across the world simultaneously. We know where they got their Hogsmeade corpses, but it was less obvious elsewhere. They might have been gatheringan army.’ 

‘And making these woods their bloody barracks?’ said Matt. 

‘Can you think of a better place?’ 

‘Enough,’ said Albus. ‘We need to plan, and move.’ 

‘There’s no plan _to_ make,’ said Eva. ‘Intercepting it will take time and string us out. We need to press on, and now, and fast, because they’re probably stalking us until they can gather their numbers and strike as one. We need to make as much progress as possible in that time.’ She turned on her heel and picked up the pace, leading them tromping through the woodlands which would have been picturesque, shattered gold in autumn, were it not for the ghost of death behind them. 

‘And _then_ what do we do?’ said Rose. 

‘Simple,’ said Albus. ‘We fight, we run, and we try to not die.’ 

‘Al, keep the cloak to hand,’ said Matt, keeping his hand on the hilt of the sword as they advanced. ‘If it goes wrong, you’re going to have to wear it and slip away, make for Saint Annard while we keep them occupied.’ 

‘And, what, stage the break-out of Selena myself?’ 

‘Then give _me_ the cloak and -’ 

The matter was made abruptly easier by three Inferi lunging from the woodlands at their flanks. Eva didn’t break pace to spin and send a shimmering blade of magic energy scything through the air. It thudded into the Inferius’ throat and knocked it back, head at an angle and the creature downed at once. 

‘Go!’ bellowed Albus, turning and pointing his wand at a tree behind them. There was a thunderous cracking as the bark splintered, and with the sound of shattering thunders it fell, crashing through branches and falling leaves and sending up a deluge of dirt and echoes on impact. Anything it didn’t take out, it would at least slow down. The last was sent flying by a blast from Thane, but it didn’t stay down, and then there were more pinpricks of deadly white light in the shadows. 

Rose was by Matt’s side before he could blink, hand at his elbow. ‘Run,’ she hissed, and set off at a pace where she was almost dragging him through the trees, the northwards course they’d been holding so far. 

‘I don’t need to be told twice,’ he said, breathing ragged through surprise and shock, and his hand remained on the sword-hilt. 

Rose smacked it away. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you _dare_ -’ 

‘What -’ 

He stumbled, but it wasn’t just Rose who kept him upright, but _Eva_ , on his other flank, grabbing his shoulder. ‘She means everyone else here is immune, and I’m not repeating Brillig.’ 

Matt looked at her, shocked, only then remembering the two of them fighting their way across the island. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that she _had_ been perfectly safe from infection - though not disembowelment and horrid death - when they’d staged that rescue. And she sounded sincere and she sounded determined, and in the last two years he’d never thought he’d have Eva Saida looking after his wellbeing. Especially not out of guilt. 

‘We can’t be far!’ Rose called to the others as they ran, jumping over patches of undergrowth, scrambling over fallen logs, weaving in between the trees. 

‘Then what?’ snapped Albus, hurling magic behind him as they came in their wake, a swarm of white shapes in the woodlands. ‘We just run into Saint Annard with this lot on our heels?’ 

‘There’ll be perimeter guards,’ huffed Thane, vaulting over a tumbled tree-trunk. ‘Take them down, and get us some distance from this lot. I know what I’m doing.’ 

They couldn’t keep it up for long, but they were all of them ready for this, fit, agile, and accustomed to running for their lives. Any shame Matt felt in keeping flanked by Eva and Rose faded for a tight focus on keeping his footing, keeping up the pace, and the knowledge of what came ahead. 

_Save being manly for later. For now, get the job done. Get her back._   
  
The trees became patchier almost before he realised it. He lunged over the overgrown rubble of what had once been a wall, and then ahead of them weren’t more thick trunks, but sandy ruins. 

_Saint Annard_. 

The Inferi remained on their heels, tens of metres behind and perhaps twenty of them, but now they were moving into sandy old roads, crumbled remains of pale stone buildings a hundred years old, dust kicking up to paint everything in a hazy light. 

‘Intruders!’ A shadow loomed ahead as they ploughed down the road, and Matt put his head down, shoulder out, and barged flat into the Thornweaver whose alert was cut short at the tackle. 

Down they both went, and Matt was faintly aware of another Council guard being taken down by Albus and Scorpius with the _zap_ of magic. Without thinking, Matt had his wand in the other man’s gut, a wordless Stun leaving him motionless, and he rolled back onto his feet. Rose and Eva had the road ahead covered, gazes alert, but there were no more words from deeper into the village, just the thudding footsteps from behind. 

‘We’ve got to keep moving,’ said Rose. 

‘No!’ Thane bent over the Thornweaver at Albus’ feet, reaching for the man’s hand. ‘We can stop this, we can -’ With a noise of triumph he lifted something that gleamed in the hazy light, a ring which he slipped on his finger. ‘Slow them down, give me just a _moment_ …’ 

‘Are you _kidding_ -’ 

The Inferi were like racing ghosts in the rising dust, but Scorpius didn’t run, and so neither did Albus. As the two turned to face the oncoming horde, Eva and Rose exchanged long-suffering looks and moved in front of Matt, spells hurled outward. Matt gritted his teeth and stood behind them. All their focused fire and volleys could bring down the first half-dozen Inferi charging while Thane tapped his wand against the ring and muttered incantations to himself. 

‘Done!’ he barked after a moment. ‘Step back! Away!’ He lifted his hand, ring glinting through the dusty veil, and the next rank of Inferi that loped at them slowed, stumbled, and slumped to a halt. 

Matt suppressed a shudder as he watched them. A heartbeat ago they’d been like beasts lunging with primal killer instincts, but now they stood motionless as statues he knew could be deadly. ‘What the hell -’ 

‘This is what Lethe _does_ , Mister Doyle,’ said Thane. ‘Bends them to the will of the Council, makes them an _army_. I helped _develop_ this; do you honestly think I didn’t also learn how to control them, too?’ 

‘They’ve changed things,’ said Scorpius, his wand not leaving the motionless ranks of corpses. ‘Tried to block us out from influencing them, and we haven’t had a chance to test if we could do it until now.’ 

‘And I didn’t want to let them _know_ we could before now,’ said Thane. ‘But the moment they try to give this lot new instructions - I _assure_ you this swarm in the woodlands will not all be controlled by this one, sorry perimeter guard - then it’s going to get messy and at least some of them will turn on us. Conflicting orders will turn this into chaos.’ 

‘So we need a plan,’ said Albus. 

‘Also,’ said Scorpius, ‘we need the Chalice. If it’s here, we _can_ _’t_ pass up this opportunity to snatch it.’ 

‘Rose,’ said Matt in a firm voice. ‘Legilimens one of these two. Find Selena - and if he knows anything about the Chalice, so much the better.’ 

‘On it,’ she said, and bent over one of the fallen Thornweavers. 

Thane clicked his tongue. ‘Very good, but _do_ be quick, I don’t like how they look at me.’ 

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t have helped develop the _fucking_ illness,’ said Matt, and turned to them all. ‘Here’s how it’s going to go down. If we find the Chalice location, then Al, Scorpius, and Eva are going after it.’ 

Thane opened his mouth. ‘I should -’ 

‘I’m splitting you two up,’ Matt pronounced. ‘So you don’t get the Chalice _or_ Selena and then run off with either. And I bet _you_ care more about the Chalice, and I trust Albus to stop Scorpius from absconding with it, and Eva’s a strong extra wand-arm for them. Which makes _you_ a strong extra wand-arm for Rose and I going after Selena.’ 

Scorpius gave a low whistle. ‘Blimey,’ he said. ‘It’s almost like you’ve thought this through. And don’t trust us.’ He sounded amused and approving, not bitter. 

‘I don’t fucking care,’ said Matt. ‘We’re getting this done, and we’re getting _her_.’ 

Rose straightened. ‘She’s in the town hall, west side of town. Chalice is north. I bet none of you will miss that magical signature.’ 

Thane nodded, lips thin. ‘Then what do I do with this merry band? I was thinking of telling them to go on a rampage against all Thornweavers they find. It’ll cause chaos, not least because the Council will have to fight to get them back under control.’ 

Albus frowned at that. ‘We’re going to _use_ them -’ 

‘Then that’s a plan,’ said Matt. ‘And I don’t give a damn if you like it or dislike it. Get to work.’

* * 

There couldn’t have been more than a dozen or so Thornweavers in Saint Annard, and it became quickly apparent that if there _was_ anything to the north, they were not physically guarding it. Eva downed one Thornweaver before Scorpius or Albus even saw them, and then it was Al’s turn to Stun a would-be ambusher hidden amongst rubble of a shattered home, but that was the last living soul they saw. 

Plenty of Saint Annard remained. It had once been a typical French village, the walls of pale brown stone, some even older with faded timberwork. Broken pale shutters hung off hinges, ancient metal signs lay twisted in the remains of the road, and any building which still had a roof lacked at least one wall. Behind them, they could hear the sounds of the Inferi as they sought out any remaining Thornweavers, the crash of combat and their inhuman hissing alongside screams of pain, but they had not come north. It seemed there were no targets there. 

A shiver ran up Albus’ spine as he checked the corners, the few gaping windows that remained amongst the ruins. _Or, perhaps, even they won_ _’t come this far_. 

‘Did you hear that?’ said Scorpius, stopping short in the middle of the road. 

Eva grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the cover of a nearby wall. ‘No, but I’d like us to live long enough to see what caused it.’ 

‘I’m not going to get sniped,’ he said, indignant. ‘There’s nothing here. Well. Nothing living.’ 

‘If you’re about to tell me that coming back from the dead gave you strange mystic-sensing powers -’ 

‘No,’ Albus interrupted. ‘There’s something here. I can feel it, too.’ 

She looked between them, frowning. ‘That’s called your survival instincts telling you that you might get your heads blown off at any moment.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Scorpius, sweeping his wand up and down the street. ‘But by _what_?’ 

‘And if the Chalice is here, why isn’t it guarded?’ said Albus. 

Scorpius shook his head, and cautiously advanced down the road, the paving patchy and broken. ‘That doesn’t wholly surprise me,’ he said. ‘If the Chalice isn’t kept somewhere which is _really_ prepared for it, like the tomb in the Parisian Catacombs, it can start to… _warp_ things. That’s why it’s best keeping it somewhere close to the dead. If a place is already disturbed, it breaks down fewer walls. But it does… feed them.’ 

‘That’s a great choice of words,’ said Eva in a flat voice, checking their rear as they followed. 

‘What do you mean, feed?’ 

‘I mean,’ said Scorpius, and pointed his wand down the road ahead, where the dust was so thick as to almost be a fog, ‘if there is already the chance of ghosts, then that chance will become a _guarantee_.’ Which was when Albus heard the weeping. 

Eva gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘I didn’t have to put up with this shit with Baz.’ 

It wasn’t sobbing, it was wailing, and then another voice joined it, and another; then there was the sound of magic fizzing in the air, and Albus jerked his wand up in a low guard until it cut the wailing short and he realised what it was. ‘Hells,’ he breathed. ‘This is the massacre.’ 

When they rounded the corner, before them stood the barn, and the fate of Saint Annard. Wide double-doors were open, hanging off their hinges, and in the yard and inside the shadowed building were the shimmering shapes. Some were more distinct than others. Those inside the barn - some standing, some kneeling, some lying on the ground and writhing in agony, probably fifty in total - were the translucent, white shapes Albus recognised as fully-formed ghosts. Those outside were different. The dust formed into humanoid shapes, like figures formed in the tumbling sand of an hourglass. There was a dozen of them, though at the outskirts of the courtyard were wispy shapes, the impression of more beyond this immediate moment. While the ghosts wore simple robes Albus would guess were a century old in fashion, the dust-figures wore robes which were more like coats, with square corners and identical lines of a uniform pattern. 

‘Thule Society soldiers,’ murmured Scorpius next to him. 

Eva’s breath caught as she looked at one dust-figure, not lined up with the rest but stood to the side, taller, more imperious. ‘Raskoph.’ 

Albus stopped himself from jumping when he realised what she meant; that they _hadn_ _’t_ been intercepted by Thornweaver forces, that they were trapped in a moment of death and despair, and the architect of this moment had been Joachim Raskoph a hundred years ago. 

He was talking in accented French, and Albus and Scorpius glanced at Eva, whose brow furrowed deeper and deeper as she listened, until she translated. ‘He’s ordering his men to shoot them in the legs so they can’t run, so they’ll die slower,’ she said, voice grating, and as they watched, the lined Thule soldiers did as directed, with vicious slicing charms that felled the ghosts of the villagers of Saint Annard. ‘And now he’s - you sick bastard…’ 

‘The Chalice _must_ be here,’ murmured Scorpius. ‘These are the ghosts of the people Raskoph killed a hundred years ago, but the Chalice’s magic is so powerful it’s not just making them re-live their deaths, it’s making facsimiles of their killers, too, it’s bringing back the whole _moment_ of death. Not just the dead.’ His expression had gone very still, tight and controlled like Albus had rarely seen. 

‘They’re accused of harbouring agents of the Magical Alliance,’ Eva continued as Raskoph spoke on. ‘He says the women and children are in the church, that his men are searching the village. That the villagers must give up those agents. If they don’t, the men here will die first. And if those agents are still not found, or surrendered, then the women and children will be killed, too.’ 

One ghost of the villagers threw himself down on his knees, speaking in choking, anguished words Albus didn’t need to speak French to understand. He knew a plea for mercy when he heard one. 

There was a ferocious _crack_ as the memory of Raskoph flicked his wand, and the ghost screamed as his legs were broken. The Colonel’s shape just nodded at his men, spoke in German, and turned away. 

‘Jesus fucking Christ, I wish we’d killed that bastard in Panama,’ Scorpius hissed as the soldiers advanced, downing more of the ghosts but not yet slaying them, and they dragged them into the shadows of the barns. More pleas and begging could be heard, and despite the screams of pain, it seemed nobody was being killed yet. Raskoph’s shape outside became more indistinct, and Albus guessed that the full scene of despair and death was now contained inside the barn, with the memories of the dead. 

‘You think this is bad,’ murmured Eva, ‘remember that to unleash Lethe, they have wiped out entire villages to convert into Inferi. Not to mention the body-count from the following attacks. This is insane, and evil, and things like this are _still happening_.’ 

A low noise of pain escaped Scorpius’ lips, and Albus couldn’t tell if this was just horror at the sight or something else, something only a man who’d been to the realm of death and back could see of this anguish. But then he couldn’t think about _that_ any more, because he heard the wailing of the villagers hit a whole new pitch at the sound of crackling flames. 

‘He had their legs broken and blasted,’ Albus murmured, mouth dry, ‘had them dragged into the barn, then had the barn burnt. Fucking hell.’ 

Scorpius straightened with a jerk, expression set. ‘These aren’t even proper ghosts. Proper ghosts don’t just re-live their deaths. This is a memory of death, an echo of death, and it can only be here for one reason: the Chalice must be inside.’ He stalked into the swirling dust, echoes of Thule soldiers bursting as he brushed past them, shoulders squared as he headed for the barn. 

More and more could Albus see the blackened stones, the building showing its true, gutted form as the memory marched on. He glanced at Eva, whose jaw was set in that pained, determined way he recognised, before they followed. He could understand why even the Thornweavers didn’t come here. Saint Annard was protected by secrecy and by the Inferi; without their raid on the _Naglfar_ , without Thane’s understanding of Lethe, they could never have got this far. That this resting place of the Chalice had no final protection did not surprise him. 

The figures of dust were collapsing as the memory went on, as the living walked amongst them, and Albus’s shoulders slowly relaxed as the screaming from inside the barn subsided. Even if he knew it was stopping because the ghosts were too far gone to make a sound, at least he didn’t have to hear them. They found Scorpius stood in the shrouded, gloomy barn, cast in darkness by the tall, blackened walls even if the roof had burnt out. He was frozen in place, staring at the remains of an internal stone wall upon which sat a silvery cup. 

Albus had seen several resting places of the Chalice of Emrys, but this was by far the least impressive - and yet the one which made his skin crawl the most. ‘I hate that bloody thing.’ 

‘Not as much,’ murmured Scorpius, and the shreds of sunlight that crept through the ceiling reflected off the silvery surface of the Chalice to cast pale angles across his sharp face, ‘as I do.’

* * 

‘This is an upgrade,’ said Selena, and tugged at the bindings that kept her tied to the chair, hands behind her back. ‘Do I get room service now?’ It was easier to joke now she was out of the prison cell, and so she was going to make the most of it. Perhaps to annoy her captors. Perhaps to distract herself while she still could. 

Joachim Raskoph stood with two of his masked guards. The town hall was one of the few parts of the village - not that she’d seen much of it - which was still intact, and it was where the Thornweavers had established their base of operations and barracks. She’d been dragged out of the cellars only minutes ago to hear the screams of death and shouts of combat, and bundled into the office that was Raskoph’s sanctum here. 

She’d seen him before. He’d come down into the darkness and the whispers of her cell, just the once. Conversation had been neither stimulating nor enlightening, and she had no idea how long she’d been there or what was going on. But if someone was killing Thornweavers, if she was being moved closer to be guarded better, it was a good enough reason to hope. 

Raskoph gave her an emotionless look. ‘You think you are being funny.’ 

‘ _I_ think this beats being in a dark, tiny, cold room and having to shit in a bucket.’ 

‘I could gag you.’ 

‘And I was just starting to enjoy our talks.’ Again, she tugged at the bindings. Again, she concluded this rope was magical. ‘I do love your rhetoric about how you’re going to destroy the world’s corrupt, depraved ways, and especially how you’re going to destroy my mother. We could bond on that.’ 

Raskoph hefted the cuffs she’d been transported in, removed when they’d bound her to the chair. They were large, enchanted shackles that had attached themselves to her wrists and ankles with just the flick of a wand and made it hard to think, let alone move or walk. The Thornweavers had all but carried her out of her makeshift cell, through the echoing and ruined town hall. ‘You are very bold,’ he said, voice still without inflection, ‘for a girl at my mercy.’ 

‘If you were going to kill me, you wouldn’t have abducted me,’ said Selena with a shrug. ‘I’m the daughter of Lillian Rourke. You want to use me, probably to manipulate her - which, newsflash, won’t work. I don’t think even a Killing Curse would crack her these days. But you’ve gone to some effort to abduct me, so you won’t just finish me off for being annoying.’ 

‘True,’ said Raskoph, and rested his hand on the wand sheathed at his hip. ‘But if this is a rescue effort that might succeed, I could kill you to stop the IMC from recovering you.’ 

The thudding fear that buzzed through her veins and thudded with her heartbeats hit a new, faster tempo. Selena licked dry lips. ‘Yeah, okay,’ she said, and the whimsical voice of a defence mechanism was no longer defiant. ‘You might do that.’ At this point it seemed judicious to fall silent. 

At this point, the wall was also blasted in by Matthias Doyle. 

Heavy stone rubble flew through the air to crash into one of the Thornweaver guards, who collapsed with a gurgle, countless somethings probably broken. Selena’s heart lunged into her throat as Matt stormed in through the gap, sword in one hand, wand in the other, hurling curses and covering fire - and behind him, already beginning an onslaught at the standing Thornweaver guard, came Rose - 

Then Prometheus Thane marched in with them and Selena was _really_ confused. 

‘Get Selena!’ Matt yelled at Rose, taking her target. 

Thane rounded on Raskoph, aristocratic features twisted into a superior smile. ‘Hello, sir. It’s been a while.’ 

Raskoph barely batted an eyelid, but then his wand was in his hand and levelled at Thane, so fast Selena wondered if she’d blinked and missed it. ‘Traitor,’ was all he said, still without inflection, and then magic flew through the air like wildfire. 

Selena swore and tugged at her bindings, then Rose was at her side, wand tapping on the rope. ‘What the _bloody_ hell is going on, Weasley?’ 

‘Rescue mission! You’re welcome.’ Rose muttered incantations, needing to break down the enchantments on the rope before she could untie it. 

‘With _Thane_?’ 

‘There are so, so many stories to tell you when this is over. You’re not hurt?’ 

‘I’ve been stuck in a cellar for the past few days, so tell me the truth: how bad is my hair?’ 

‘I’ll take that as a no…’ 

Selena had seen many fights, and she’d seen them all with a barely-contained panic at the knowledge that she was never the best combatant on the field. She always stuck with someone, helping shield them, focusing on their target, making sure she could watch someone’s back and have hers watched in turn. It was terrifying and a little embarrassing when one stood beside formidable fighters like Albus Potter, but it was nothing like being bound and helpless and only being able to watch. 

Matt had closed the distance, like he always did, moving with a magically-enhanced speed to bring his sword into the equation as he clashed with the standing Thornweaver. Spells flashed through the air along with the edge of metal, and the fight was as much physical as it was magical, both men in a back-and-forth dance of striking, evading, retaliating. 

What was happening between Thane and Raskoph was a completely different game. Neither man hardly moved, wands swishing with ultimate efficiency, but the energy crackling between them was enough to make the hairs on the back of Selena’s neck stand on end. One would flinch, then the other, and with no incantations given, barely any kind of magical light show, she had to guess the spells were mental more than physical. Then Raskoph gave a grunt of pain and staggered back, and that made Thane move. He lunged forwards, Raskoph’s wand snapped up, and then it was a fight the like of which she recognised better - albeit on a whole new level of speed and terror. 

Blue energy crackled from Raskoph’s wand-tip, Thane caught it with his left hand and hurled it harmlessly into a wall before making the floorboards under Raskoph’s feet buckle and surge. Raskoph seemed to step upwards into thin air and hovered for a moment, his footing not remotely threatened, then swished his wand for a spell which howled as it sliced through air, through thought, through space itself. Thane ducked that one, and sheer stone in the wall behind him shuddered at the perfect, narrow, straight slice that appeared in it. 

There was a yell of pain, and Selena’s head snapped around as she thought it was Matt - but he was still standing, sword gleaming a trail through the air, Thornweaver falling with a spray of blood. She couldn’t tell if that had been a lethal blow. _I remember when he tried like hell to not use that to kill. B_ ut then Matt was turning on Raskoph, moving to join and reinforce Thane. 

‘Rose, this is dumb; go help and the three of you can take down Raskoph,’ Selena hissed. 

‘We’re not planning to win. We’re planning to run. Thane’s not sure he can _take_ him -’ 

And Raskoph broke Thane’s guard, just in time to prove that suspicion right. The spell didn’t do much; Thane had deflected most of it, his shields absorbing the rest. But it did make him stumble, and in that stumble, Raskoph struck. By magic he hurled not a weapon at Thane, but the magical shackles which had bound Selena on the way up here. 

Rose swore as the shackles found Thane’s wrists, then dragged him jerking forward so they could snap onto both hands, his ankles, trussing him up as they were enchanted to do. There wasn’t more than a gurgled curse from Thane before he fell to the floor, hog-tied, wand spinning out of his grip. Matt lunged over Thane’s fallen form, sword in a low guard before him, wand in his left hand, held back and ready for defence. ‘Rose!’ he bellowed. ‘Untie Selena and _go_!’ 

Then he threw himself at Joachim Raskoph for a fresh bout he couldn’t possibly win, and it was Selena’s turn to swear. ‘Did he go _absolutely mental_ when I wasn’t looking?’ But Rose didn’t answer, redoubling her efforts to unlock the magical bindings keeping Selena in place. ‘You’re not actually _listening_ to this stupid plan?’ 

‘I’m almost there…’ 

_Almost_ , thought Selena as she watched Matt and Raskoph clash, _might not be good enough._

Matt wasn’t letting Raskoph get any distance, because if he had one edge, it was the sword that could slice through magical protections. He’d been training with it, Selena thought as he even lifted the blade to deflect a spell Raskoph hurled at him, the metal glinting as it absorbed the magic that would have likely killed him. For his age, Raskoph was not at all slowed. But he _was_ pressed back, for no barrier he raised could block adamantine, and so he had to evade physically, not magically. Matt kept his wand ready to defend himself, sword-blows the bulk of his attacks, body already surging with those charms he used to make himself stronger, quicker. Still Raskoph ducked, sidestepped and weaved. Once he sprouted a long blade from the tip of his wand, parried and attempted a riposte, but Matt was quicker, and on the second clashing of sword on sword, the Templar blade shattered his summoned weapon. 

‘You know,’ said Selena, eyebrows raised, ‘he’s actually not doing too badly.’ 

She should have known better than to curse him like that. Raskoph leapt backwards from the latest swipe, expression set. ‘Adeptly done, Mister Doyle,’ he said. ‘But those old ways are long gone for a reason.’ 

Matt’s voice came ragged, exertion getting the better of him more than his enemy. The charms which reinforced his body also took their toll, in time, and the battle stretched on. ‘They’re doing me alright for now.’ 

‘Enchantment’s down,’ muttered Rose, and clicked her tongue with satisfaction. ‘I’m just getting the rope.’ 

‘Indeed.’ Raskoph swished his wand at his free hand, conjuring another blade, this one to be held instead of produced at wand-tip. ‘Sometimes it is worth revering them.’ 

Matt glanced at the edge. ‘You know adamantine will break that.’ 

‘I know,’ said Raskoph, and lashed out with his wand again. Three spells in quick succession, so swift Selena couldn’t guess what they were, and Matt blocked the first two adroitly. The third was further to his right, and the sword swept out, parried the blast, his blade outstretched to the side, which was when Raskoph struck like a snake. He closed the gap in one bound, and wand-magic met wand-magic in his blast and Matt’s defence. 

Then metal met flesh as his conjured blade sliced through Matt’s wrist. 

There was no noise of impact save the scream that tore from Matt’s throat and through Selena’s chest, and black pinpricks sprung up at the corner of her vision as she watched him fall. Blood surged from the stump, his wand dropped so he could clutch at it in agony and instinct to staunch the bleeding. And Raskoph just stepped back, expression impassive. 

Rose was crossing the gap before Selena could blink, and had she been capable of speaking, Selena would have yelled at her for leaving her still bound. But then Rose was by Matt’s side, voice stumbling over healing incantations that would never regrow a limb, but might stop him from bleeding out, and the note of panic in her friend’s voice was so very, very familiar. 

‘Now would be time for you to surrender, Miss Weasley,’ said Raskoph, and Selena jerked her hands to tug at the bonds that had been only partly loosened. ‘Lay down your wand, and I will let you live, girl.’ 

Rose didn’t answer, still bent over Matt’s fallen form. Either he’d passed out or she’d charmed him into blissful unconsciousness, and for a moment Selena was afraid Rose wasn’t responding because she’d gone too far away inside to have heard Raskoph. Then she stood. ‘Girl,’ repeated Rose in a whisper that somehow still stretched across the room shattered by magics. ‘If nothing else, do not forget that I am still a witch.’ 

_Oh, Rose, you fucking idiot_ , was all Selena could think as her wand lashed out for a fresh flurry of spells. Raskoph had just beaten Thane, just beaten Matt, and while she rated Rose over him, that didn’t mean she thought this was a fight they could win. She went back to struggling at her bindings, and watched the inevitable defeat unfold. 

Rose had never been their best fighter. That had always been Albus. Scorpius had been excellent for sheer unpredictability, and over time Matt had proved himself a solid opponent. Rose was not especially inventive in combat; while she might use an obscure spell, it would still be entirely by the book. This at least meant her shields were always the best the Hogwarts Five had to offer. Raskoph’s spells crashed against them, and Rose hurled back the odd retaliation, jaw tight, eyes bright with concentration, every wand move conservative, precise. But though she stood steady, there was no way she wouldn’t be worn down. 

_She_ _’s stalling for time._ Selena blinked - then realised she was the only possible cavalry that could come and save this rescue from calamity. Rope tore at her skin as she tugged, but this wasn’t the worst pain she’d suffered, wasn’t the worst fate she could hope for, and she struggled and yanked and then - 

Freedom. Free hands, and she could pull the rope away from herself and the chair, stand, and… 

And do absolutely nothing, stood in the middle of the battle-scarred room while Raskoph and Rose clashed spell on spell. They either hadn’t noticed her, locked in their fight, or they were ignoring her because she was harmless and useless and - 

‘Rourke…’ 

Prometheus Thane’s voice was a low growl. She knew how hard it was to do anything with those bindings on; they didn’t just tie up the body, they tied up _thoughts_ , too, and to speak must have taken a supreme effort of will. She turned to face him, saw those blue eyes that still thudded hatred through her heart, and saw his gaze flicker from her to a point on the ground. ‘ _Wand_.’ 

His wand. Of course. She ran, scooped it up, turned on Raskoph, and hesitated. He could take them both in a straight fight, probably with one hand tied behind his back. She was not a great addition to combat. If she was going to do anything, she had to do it now, take him down, take him by surprise. There was only one spell she knew for sure would do that. 

Selena lifted Prometheus Thane’s wand, narrowed her eyes at Raskoph’s unprotected back, and drew a deep breath. ‘ _Avada Kedavra_.’ 

The air was sucked from her lungs, from her ears, and Prometheus Thane’s wand shuddered in her grip at the eruption of green light. A distant part of Selena’s mind mused that she’d never _seen_ the Killing Curse used, but it still seemed like the light was bursting too soon, dissipating too soon, and sound came crashing back into the world _too soon_. Raskoph spun at her words, eyes wide, trying to hurl himself back - but the spell hit, and at once Selena knew that she had _not_ cast successfully. _You have to mean it_. That was what Professor Tully had said in her NEWTs, that was what her great-uncle Barnabus had grumbled about when he got too far into drinks and work over family dinners. And despite all Raskoph had done, despite all she knew he was going to do, she’d hesitated. 

The half-spell, the ghost of flawed hate and uncertain pain, still thudded into Raskoph’s side and sent him staggering back. His robes and skin smoked on impact, and there was a yell of pain as the green-hued light rippled across him. 

Rose lifted her wand, but looked too startled to exploit the opening, and in the chaos Selena scrabbled around the room to join her. Two wands were better than one for Shielding them from the inevitable onslaught and retaliation. 

Raskoph had a hand to the struck cheek, but when he lowered it the skin was smoldering, blackened with a greenish hue, and tugging at his lip to give him a sneer. ‘Go, then.’ His voice was a rasp on granite. ‘Just know you are saving _nothing_.’ Then he swished his wand, turned on the spot, and with a _crack_ he disappeared. 

‘Bloody hell.’ Rose’s wand dipped, and she looked at Selena. ‘Did you just - did _he_ just -’ 

‘I screwed it up.’ Selena’s brow pinched, and she turned to Matt. ‘Is he -’ 

‘Alive.’ Rose hurried back to his side. ‘I’ve staunched the bleeding, but we want to get him to a hospital as _soon_ as possible - once the others are here -’ 

‘The others - and what the _hell_ is Thane doing -’ It seemed neither of them was going to finish a sentence, as that was the moment three figures burst through the hole in the wall: Albus Potter, Eva Saida, and Scorpius Malfoy. 

‘We saw the green light!’ said Albus, eyes wide, wand hefted before him. ‘Is everyone okay?’ Then his gaze found Matt’s crumpled form and he swore. 

‘He’s alive,’ Rose said again, lifting a hand. ‘We drove off Raskoph.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘We got the Chalice. The Inferi are fighting _each other_ out there now; looks like conflicting Thornweaver orders. But whichever side wins is going to come for _us_ soon.’ 

Selena stared at Scorpius. ‘What the _fuck_ is going on?’ 

‘It’s a long story,’ said Rose, but she, too, watched Scorpius as he hurried across the office to the side of Thane, still on the ground, still bundled up by the magical bindings. ‘Don’t let him out of those.’ 

Scorpius stood over Thane, and gave her a sidelong look. ‘We just _helped_ you -’ 

‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘You did.’ Then she lifted her wand. ‘ _Stupefy_.’ 

Scorpius - or whoever the hell it was - didn’t have time to give more than a garbled oath before the spell thudded into him, and he fell like a stone next to Prometheus Thane. 

Albus strode forwards. ‘Rose -’ 

‘Are you a _complete_ idiot, Al?’ Rose’s voice was low and flat. ‘I heard what he said on the _Naglfar_. In the tent last night. But there is no way, no _way_ I am letting _whatever_ this is walk away from here. Neither him nor Thane. Even if it’s just so I will have _answers_.’ 

Selena kept gawping at Scorpius’ crumbled form. ‘So that’s a crazy illusion? Polyjuice?’ 

‘We’re going back to Britain,’ Rose said, ignoring her, ‘getting Matt to a hospital, and giving _those_ two to the DMLE.’ Then her gaze fell on Eva Saida, who had barely moved except to shift her wand into a low guard. ‘You…’ 

Eva grimaced. ‘Do I get double-crossed, too? I don’t have enough moral high ground to get indignant about that.’ 

Rose flinched. ‘Get out of here. Go wherever you damn well please. You - you helped us in Ager Sanguinis. We wouldn’t have got to the _Naglfar_ if it weren’t for you.’ 

‘True enough.’ But Eva bit her lip, her gaze flickering from Thane’s fallen form, to Rose, then finally to Albus, whose expression was pinched, pained. Then she straightened, and flipped her wand in her hand, extending the grip towards him. Emotion fled from her face and her voice. ‘Be sure to tell the British government that.’ 

Albus stared. ‘What are you doing?’ 

Eva drew a raking breath. ‘Surrendering.’ 

‘You could -’ 

‘Run? And keep running? And run for the rest of my life and never see -’ She stopped herself. ‘Just bring me in with them. We’ll see where judgement falls.’ 

Rose’s expression hadn’t changed. ‘Then let’s go, before Matt has to wait any longer. We can Apparate to the border, French authorities in Calais can pick us up and get us routed straight to London…’ 

Selena’s jaw remained dropped as she looked at the trussed-up Prometheus Thane who’d helped rescue her, the Stunned Scorpius Malfoy who’d come back from the dead, the disarmed Eva Saida who’d just surrendered, and the bewildered Albus Potter who was holding the Chalice of Emrys, and swore. ‘Not that I’m not grateful for the rescue,’ she said, ‘but I’m _really_ confused.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The notion of the massacre of Saint Annard, and the specifics of how it happened, are derived from the genuine, historical massacre of Oradour-sur-Glane by SS forces in 1944. For however comic-book evil Raskoph can seem, in this incident he has been no worse than genuine monsters of genuine history._
> 
> _There is a spot of headcanon at work with Selena’s Killing Curse misfire. The Killing Curse cannot be easy, or it would be the bread-and-butter of every single ‘bad guy’ attack if they had no reason to hold back. My thinking is that it takes concentration and focus, which is not always available in the middle of a rolling scrap, and that it takes - like the Cruciatus - true belief, hatred, meaning on the part of the caster. The further headcanon is that something like that might not be a spell you’d want to throw around with the risk of it going_ wrong _; either backfiring or possibly doing nothing. So more reliable if less-lethal spells like Stuns or general slashing/cutting/combat magics would be more bread-and-butter in a fight._   
>    
> _Basically, Raskoph hasn_ _’t just survived a Killing Curse. Selena screwed it up and hit him with something nasty but absolutely non-lethal._


	13. Blasted and Burnt

‘Potter, they got the job done -’

‘Begging your pardon, Chairman, but I had people _pursuing_ the _Naglfar._ We were going to have it monitored and then track the movements of the Council of Thorns.’ Harry planted his hands on the desk, as angry as Rose thought she’d ever seen him. ‘Now the Council have abandoned the ship, and they’ll set up their transportation network somewhere else, somewhere we don’t know about.’

‘What’s that even worth, Harry?’ Rose said before she could stop herself. ‘You didn’t anticipate the attacks, you didn’t find where they sent Selena. Were we supposed to _leave_ her there on the off-chance you set up a surveillance op?’

Harry flinched, jaw tight. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just scowled at his office door. Their return to Britain had been in a hail of chaos and acclaim, but there was a lot of judgement that had yet to be passed, dangling overhead still like a sword of Damocles. Lillian Rourke had come right down to the MLE office, as had Hermione, and the three of them stood on Harry’s side of the desk before Albus, Rose and Selena, like a Greek chorus of disapproval that stuck in Rose’s throat.

It took a moment before Harry spoke, and his voice grated when he did. ‘I don’t blame you. I understand you did what you had to do -’

‘And I, for one,’ said Lillian, ‘am _grateful_ for what you did.’

‘But it still disrupted a slew of our operations, losing the _Naglfar._ I cannot _believe_ that Gabriel Doyle gave you information and support for such a strike; he should have known better! If _I’d_ known you were working with him -’

‘You were in _America,’_ retorted Rose. ‘Nobody was doing anything, and we _had_ to act.’

‘We had people in America,’ said Lillian, ‘but that _did_ lead to last night’s raid in Chicago which has gutted the biggest Council cell in the US. It’s crippled their operations in North America, and that came about _with_ your uncle’s work and help.’ She cast a glance at her daughter. ‘It was the strategic priority.’

Rose could hear the pain and apology in Lillian’s voice, and the part of her that was still calm and patient winced in sympathy. She’d seen the reports as they’d returned; Lillian Rourke had marshaled Aurors and Enforcers from Europe and the Americas and overseen the cooperation of intelligence and manpower that had led to the first major blow against the Council of Thorns in this new outbreak of hostilities. Kicking Thornweavers out of the USA was no minor coup for the IMC, or for Lillian herself, or for her uncle, who had been up to his elbows in the operation.

But, strategic priority or not, it still hadn’t broken Selena out.

‘We didn’t tell any of you,’ Albus chirped up, ‘because we knew you’d stop us. And I, for one, am not _sorry.’_

Rose shot her mother a pointed look, and Hermione drew a slow breath. ‘I knew they were working with Doyle.’

Harry gave her a betrayed look. ‘You _knew?_ He has been an _utter_ liability -’

‘Something needed to be done,’ said Hermione, voice tightening.

‘He still gave them illegal Portkeys to conduct operations which have disrupted official operations,’ said Harry with finality, and straightened. _‘Ron!’_

Somehow the bellow passed through the door to summon Rose’s father. He stood in the doorway, expression studied and blank, and she could appreciate that if ever there was a time to run to professionalism, it was now. ‘Sir?’

 _I have never,_ thought Rose, _heard Dad call Harry, ‘sir’. This is a disaster._

‘Get a team together,’ said Harry, hands planted on the desk, ‘and arrest Gabriel Doyle. And when I say “people”, I mean Proudfoot, I mean Savage. Suspend Bell and Cole.’

Albus straightened. ‘Dad, what the hell -’

‘We are at war, and I cannot have the left hand not knowing what the right is doing. If Gabriel Doyle wants to fight the Council, he can do so with us. No more of this independent work.’

‘Surely you should be arresting _us._ We were the ones who hit the _Naglfar,_ we were the ones who disrupted your operations -’

‘You didn’t know better,’ said Harry. ‘He did.’

Rose looked over her shoulder at her father. ‘If you want to find him,’ she said, voice arch, ‘he’ll no doubt be at _Saint Mungo’s,_ with his _son.’_

Ron ducked out of the room without a word, and Hermione glared daggers at Harry. ‘This is setting a dangerous precedent -’

‘Enough.’ Lillian Rourke moved to the side of the desk, turning the lines of judgement into a semi-circle of discussion. ‘Bringing in Gabriel Doyle is the Auror Office’s right. At the least, conversations need to be had. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss what comes next. For the moment, I’d like to know more about what’s happened, and what’s going on.’

Selena exhaled. ‘If Raskoph didn’t get in touch with anyone, I don’t know why he captured me. I wasn’t questioned. I wasn’t mistreated. I was just thrown in a cell for a couple of days. If he had something in mind, I saw no sign of it. Either it was going on beyond what I could see, or it hadn’t happened yet.’

‘He didn’t try to blackmail me privately, he didn’t try to use your abduction publicly. If Rose hadn’t witnessed it, we might still not know, and assume you amongst the dead at Hogsmeade.’

‘He fled,’ said Rose. ‘No idea where, though he may have a tough time leaving Europe without the _Naglfar._ But I bet he’s gone to ground. In the meantime, we have the Chalice of Emrys.’

‘And Prometheus Thane,’ said Selena.

‘And,’ said Albus, ‘Scorpius Malfoy.’

‘Or someone who claims to be him.’ Rose’s lips thinned.

‘You heard him in Rotterdam, Rose -’

‘I heard very convincing stories.’

‘So convincing you had to blast him in the face?’

Rose turned to Albus, throat tight. ‘From the conversation last night, I wasn’t sure he’d come quietly. I thought he and Thane might slip away. And whatever I think of this Scorpius, I _know_ I don’t trust Thane. Would you rather we’d let them go, so you had nothing more than your faith to reassure you? If he’s _here_ we can get _answers.’_

 _And if it’s him,_ she told herself, because she had to, _then he won’t get locked up._ Coming back to Britain was letting churning fear and spinning confusion form into the beginnings of firm thoughts, firm feelings, and while there was apprehension and bewilderment, there was, somewhere deep inside, a glimmer of hope. It was small and it was terrifying, and she had to work hard to not smother it with her old habit of cold indifference, but with each fact that came in, it gleamed a little brighter.

 _That._ That’s _why I Stunned him, brought him in._

Lillian lifted a hand again. ‘We also have Eva Saida. I have been contacted by Russian authorities, and it seems that Balthazar Vadimas is _not_ seeking her release.’

‘That was on the cards?’ said Selena.

‘We’ve made deals in the past,’ said Lillian, ‘to not prosecute former Thornweavers, even if they’re working with figures like Vadimas. It’s meant that Thornweavers _would_ switch sides. But apparently she’s not valuable enough to the Russians, so we get to keep her.’

At last, Harry glanced to Albus, who just said, ‘She helped us in Ager Sanguinis. We wouldn’t have got Selena back without her help. That’s all I’ve got to put forward. Do what you want with her.’

‘There are a lot of debates to be had. She’s not the first of her kind,’ sighed Lillian. ‘But she can provide us with information and the big questions can wait until _after_ the war.’

‘Does any of this apply to Prometheus Thane?’ said Rose. ‘He _has_ turned on the Council, and if Romano Vida was actually a traitor to the IMC, a man on the inside -’

‘We didn’t want to advertise Vida’s true affiliations,’ said Hermione. ‘It would make the IMC seem weak. Not that one of our national representatives being murdered was a great display of strength. But it’s certainly true that Thane has only been focusing on Council targets since he left them.’

‘However,’ said Lillian, ‘Thane has made no deals, come to no governments, cooperated with us in not one single way. He is an utter renegade, fighting his own private war against the Council, and that man is a danger to _everyone._ We are under no legal requirement to forgive him, and I, for one, would like to throw him into the deepest, darkest dungeons.’

‘Done,’ said Harry.

‘After,’ said Hermione, ‘we question him.’

‘Soon,’ said Lillian. ‘There’s still the matter of the Chalice.’

Rose’s jaw tightened. ‘There are few experts on the Chalice of Emrys,’ she said. ‘Thane is likely one of them. Another is Reynald de Sablé, but he’s an associate of Gabriel Doyle’s and so you might want to throw _him_ in jail, too.’

Hermione grimaced. ‘Rose -’

‘The last is in Saint Mungo’s with his _hand_ cut off,’ Selena finished for her. ‘He’s also the person most likely to know where de Sablé is and most likely to be able to get him on-side, after his father.’

‘Then for the moment,’ said Lillian, ‘I suggest we entrust the Chalice to Ms Granger’s Task Force.’

‘I can use it for curing Lethe abroad.’ Hermione nodded. ‘And get Lockett to work on it, too.’

‘Which brings us to the last topic,’ Lillian said. ‘Who, or what, is in our cells wearing the face of the late Scorpius Malfoy?’

‘Every disenchantment charm has been run on him,’ said Harry. ‘It’s not a Polyjuice or an illusion or anything of that ilk. His face has to have been changed using permanent magics, or Muggle methods -’

‘It’s him,’ said Albus.

A glint of pity entered his father’s eye. ‘That’s not possible, Al -’

‘How many impossible things have you seen? Have you done? I know him better than anyone in this world, and I’m telling you, that _is_ Scorpius Malfoy.’

Hermione stepped forward. ‘We can run tests on his blood. More reliable than Legilimency or Veritaserum; if he is a decoy, it’s entirely possible that he doesn’t know, so I’d rather not test his mind. Those won’t take long, and then we will know for sure.’

‘And when we prove he is,’ said Albus, ‘does he get thrown into a jail cell with Thane and Gabriel Doyle?’

Lillian winced. ‘I think that will depend on what Thane has to say, and what “Malfoy” has to say. I’m not committing to anything yet.’

‘That,’ drawled Selena, ‘and it’ll look _terrible_ politically if the hero who gave his life to defeat the Council came back from the dead and was promptly locked up. If you have no more questions for me, I’m going to the hospital. Matt’s going to have a bad enough time waking up as it is.’

As she left, Rose didn’t budge an inch, even though she felt Albus’ eyes on her. She looked at Harry, still taut and angry, to her mother, tense and apprehensive, to Lillian, oddly calm and in control, and drew a deep breath. ‘What now?’

‘Lockett should have brewed us up the Veritaserum by now,’ said Lillian, and turned to Harry. ‘So I suggest you see about the interrogation of Prometheus Thane.’

‘I want to be there,’ said Rose and Albus in unison.

‘You can watch,’ said Harry. ‘I’m not bending the rules any more than that.’

‘And I look forward to the report.’ Lillian straightened. ‘In the meantime, I need to make a lot of Floo calls. You’re right about one thing, Mister Potter; we can’t have the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.’

Hermione raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to call for a total state of emergency?’

‘I will not, in these times, have _even more_ of our efforts at fighting the Council get waylaid by internal politics. This is a time for one single, strong voice to lead the world in this war. The Lethe attacks have left a lot of governments rattled, but I need to make sure they will not try to run from a strong voice in their fear.’ She sighed. ‘I’d hoped to give all of this up. But needs must. And I am truly sick of politics getting in the way of saving lives.’

* *

Prometheus Thane sat cuffed to his chair in the interrogation room, unconcerned gaze fixed on Harry Potter. Even on the other side of the one-way glass, Albus could almost feel the tension radiating off his father.

‘He’s wound up too tight,’ murmured Hermione. ‘I don’t like this.’

‘That’s two minutes.’ Harry’s voice was piped magically through the glass, crystal clear. ‘The Veritaserum will be in effect now.’

‘Indeed,’ said Thane. ‘So you probably want me to tell all? I’ll start from the beginning, then.’ He leaned forwards, cuffs rattling as he rested his hands on the table. ‘The history of the Council of Thorns. Raskoph. Phlegethon, Eridanos, Lethe. The lot.’

‘Who recruited you into the Council of Thorns?’

‘A man named Gerald Wakefield, but you killed him last year. It doesn’t matter; I was hired to do menial tasks at first, tracing certain historic sources on necromantic rituals. Those needed begging, borrowing, stealing. It was information which eventually led to the creation of Phlegethon.’ Thane tilted his head. ‘Ask me about the origin of the Council.’

‘This is powerful Veritaserum,’ murmured Rose as Harry did so.

‘It wouldn’t compel him to be _helpful,’_ said Hermione. ‘I don’t like this.’

‘He’s an enemy of the Council,’ Albus said. ‘Perhaps he knows it’s in his best interest to cooperate.’

‘The Council of Thorns didn’t start with Raskoph, but it might as well have,’ came Thane’s voice through the glass. ‘After the Grindelwald Wars, a lot of the Thule Society fled Europe. They went to South America, just like their Muggle counterparts, hiding out in Bolivia and Chile and the like. And there they’ve lurked these past eighty years, lunatic relics.’

‘Did they -’ Harry stopped himself. ‘Who formed the Council of Thorns?’

Albus heard Hermione give a relieved exhale as Harry stuck to asking open questions.

‘They did. Krauser, Horn, Voigt. They were the first; Krauser propped up Acosta in Brazil. You’ll notice they’re all dead now, and that Voigt, at least, was removed from power by Raskoph, out-manoeuvred by him and surrendered his authority in Panama,’ Thane said. ‘But I’m getting ahead of myself. They were the first, but people like Raskoph were amongst their followers. I say “followers”; those three were more moderate, more reasonable. Even if Raskoph was closer to Grindelwald, more trusted by him - he liaised with the Muggles, after all - Krauser and the others were the ones capable of putting such a group together.

‘The Council of Thorns has rather disguised its Thule Society roots,’ said Thane, ‘or it did, before Raskoph. Even mercenaries think twice about working for those kind of Dark Wizards. So Krauser and the others presented themselves as a group looking to restore order in a desparate world, champion old traditions and principles left by the wayside, and if they happened to have some relics amongst them, if they happened to be relics, well, that was all a long time ago. But this facade allowed them to gather hirelings, followers, associates.’

‘What do you mean by “associates”?’ asked Harry.

‘People like Vida. Those in governments, those in powerful corporations who harboured traditionalist sympathies. The Council had wealth from everything the Thule Society stole from Europe, but this gave them more wealth, more influence, more power.’ Thane leaned back in his chair. ‘It was in these early days that I joined the Council, which was when I met Raskoph.’

‘Under what circumstances?’

‘I didn’t develop Phlegethon. I _did_ develop the infection method, the massive ritual at Hogwarts and it was my idea to use the site of… well, your death, as a power source. But Phlegethon - and from it Eridanos, Lethe - are older. Far older.’ He shook his head. ‘Raskoph provided the roots with what he called ancient texts and ancient research. I don’t know what these texts were, but there was a reason he was given the assignment for the Chalice of Emrys. He is an expert in all things old, and _he_ was the one who knew the Chalice could be used to create Lethe. It was “perfect”, he said, and while I assumed he was on board because we thought it might be in an old Thule or Nazi holding, his knowledge of the Templars and the magics of the Chalice went far, far deeper.’

‘Do you have any theories on the origin of Phlegethon?’

Thane grimaced. ‘I think it might have been something the Thule Society looked into in its heyday. I don’t know if they dug it up, developed it, derived it from something. But the Thule Society wanted the Chalice of Emrys back then, too. I think that the Chalice’s use in creating Lethe is more than magics which happen to align. It’s possible they share an origin.’

Harry nodded, and looked down at his papers. ‘Alright. Tell me about your separation from the Council.’

‘I was paid very well, well enough to look the other way on their misdeeds - to a point,’ said Thane. ‘It took me a while to realise how deep the Thule Society roots went, that we are talking about an organisation that is truly, _truly_ evil. Like I said, they presented themselves as being traditionalists, not ancient villains of old. And by the time I saw them for what they were, I was too entrenched in a project to get out.’

‘What project?’

‘Project Osiris. The recovery of the Chalice of Emrys and the resurrection of Scorpius Malfoy - and, through him, the reclaiming of Lethe.’

Albus heard Rose’s breath catch.

Harry met Thane’s gaze. ‘Did you really resurrect Scorpius Malfoy?’

There was a slow nod. ‘Absolutely. It took the summoning of the Chalice of Emrys from the realm of the dead, which required eighteen months of researching necromancy, finding locations which connected and tethered the Chalice to our world, and then finding somewhere the gap between the realms was thinnest. Which was expensive and time-consuming, but Raskoph was determined this would happen. He was prepared for the rest of the Council to flounder without Lethe, while he spent the last two years supplanting them, taking over, and biding his time until Lethe was back in his hands. And he wasn’t the only person who charged me with this job.’

‘Who else?’

‘The same man who gave me the location of the Hogwarts Five in Venice.’ Thane’s brow furrowed. ‘Draco Malfoy.’

‘Son of a bitch,’ Albus hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry remained silent for a heartbeat, then scribbled something onto a fresh piece of paper. It folded itself into a plane and floated out under the door. ‘Draco Malfoy is associated with the Council of Thorns?’

‘He is. He was one of those corporate types who jumped on board when the Council was just a “traditionalist” movement. He’s invested a lot of money into it, and it was through subsidiaries of his company that the Council managed to ship Lethe internationally. He’s probably the most powerful person in the organisation who’s not Thule Society.’

‘Is the man you were brought back to Britain with really Scorpius Malfoy?’

‘Yes,’ said Thane. ‘We resurrected him with the Chalice, and Raskoph immediately had Lethe extracted from him, contained. Raskoph spent the last eight months studying it, perfecting it, and then using Draco Malfoy to get it distributed worldwide. When that job was done, I had no reason to stick around with the Council.’

‘Why did you wait that long?’

‘Because the job was going to get done by _somebody._ I’m brilliant, but I’m not the only brilliant person out there.’ Thane shrugged. ‘Someone else would have brought him back, and then I wouldn’t know how it happened, where, when. So I waited until it was done, which means I know an awful lot about Lethe, and it meant that when I left the Council, I could bring Scorpius Malfoy _with_ me, along with those loyal to me.’

‘Why did you bring him with you?’

‘He didn’t want to work for the Council. He hates them, and he’s hardly thrilled by his father’s role in all of this. That’s why he wanted to leave. I wanted him with _me_ because… well, I like the boy, but I can’t lie. It’s given me a certain insurance against his father. Raskoph would happily kill us all, and Thornweavers who want to please him will try. But Draco Malfoy would rather get his darling boy back, and Thornweavers who would want to please _him_ will thus try to take at least him alive. Which made them hold back, which gave me an edge.’

‘And Scorpius Malfoy didn’t want to return home?’

‘You’d have to ask him about that,’ said Thane.

Footsteps thudded to Albus’ left, and he turned to see Rose storming from the room. He exchanged startled glances with Hermione, but otherwise followed in a flash, bursting into the corridors of the MLE prisons to see her striding off. ‘Rose…?’

She stopped in the corridor, brought her hand up to her temples, and when she turned it was with a pained, anguished expression that was still the most honest he’d seen her in two years. ‘It really is him, isn’t it.’

‘It…’ Albus swallowed. ‘It looks like. You could see him -’

She closed the distance in three quick strides, threw her arms around him with such an impact he staggered. But he didn’t hesitate before returning the embrace, close and tight. ‘I’m already being a _shit_ for not going to see Matt,’ Rose whispered. ‘He might be in Saint Mungo’s a while, but I _have_ to be there when he wakes up.’

‘Okay. I understand.’ He didn’t even disagree, but he did know he didn’t envy Rose this snarl. He pulled back and tried a smile. ‘We did it, Rose. We got Selena back.’

‘Yelled at our parents together. And the IMC Chairman.’

‘It needed doing.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Give Matt my best, will you?’

‘Sure.’ She bit her lip. ‘And - just see if he’s okay. If it’s him, he _can’t_ stay here.’

‘I know. Don’t you worry.’ Albus let her go, keeping his smile in place. ‘It’ll be okay.’

‘It never is,’ said Rose as she left, but she was, for once, dry rather than fatalistic.

It was another hour before Harry emerged from the interrogation room, an hour of Albus and Hermione sat in the listening chamber, drinking coffee, watching as Prometheus Thane rattled off reams and reams of information on the Council of Thorns’ operations. Some of this seemed already known to the IMC. Some of it had even Hermione writing frantic, scribbled notes.

As Thane did nothing more interesting than reel off dates and names, Albus glanced at his aunt. ‘So, Dad’s become a whole lot _colder_ these past two years.’ He was too angry to be guilty.

Hermione’s gaze tightened, and she nodded. ‘It’s been hard. Not just with you gone, but with the Council, with everything. He’s been overworked for too long.’

‘You don’t agree with how he’s handling it.’

‘I think it’s Harry’s job to worry about fighting the Council. I think it’s my job, and Lillian’s, to worry about how we make the _whole world_ fight the Council,’ was the diplomatic answer, and she looked at him. ‘It’s good you’re back. I think it’ll help him.’

‘Mn.’ Albus grimaced. ‘I’ve obviously been away too long.’

But then Harry was wrapping up, gathering his papers and leaving the interrogation room, so he bounced to his feet and went to the corridor to intercept him. ‘I _cannot_ believe you’re arresting Gabriel Doyle.’

Harry stopped, frown deepening. ‘He’s stolen government information, and he’s acted without our knowledge to disrupt our operations. Just because we have the same enemy doesn’t make us on the same side. I have offered, again and again, for him to work with us, but he’s refused.’

‘Have you considered why?’

‘Ironically,’ interjected Hermione, appearing in the door behind Albus, ‘it’s because of the politics which slow down the process. The politics Lillian’s now trying to clamp down on by giving the IMC more worldwide power. I can’t say I don’t sympathise.’

‘This isn’t the old days, Hermione,’ said Harry. ‘This isn’t a corrupt Ministry failing to fight the real threat. We’re doing everything we can, but I can’t have a rogue element undermining my efforts. Nobody thinks Thane was a hero for fighting the Council on his own terms, and background aside, he’s no different to Doyle in this!’

‘I think background’s pretty damn important,’ said Albus, fists clenched. ‘And I think that Gabriel Doyle allowed us to take action to _save Selena_ when you couldn’t. When you _didn’t.’_

Harry flinched. ‘I have a lot of responsibilities and can’t be everywhere at once.’

‘I think you’re _pissed_ at him,’ snapped Albus, ‘for doing what you should have, and now you’re punishing him because if he did something _wrong_ then you can convince yourself you couldn’t have done the _exact_ same thing.’

‘Albus!’ Hermione’s voice was both shocked and warning, but Harry just straightened, having to lift his head to look his son in the eye.

‘I sent orders for the arrest of Draco Malfoy; I need to see how that was resolved,’ he said, voice veering into calm professionalism. ‘Someone will see about the release process for Scorpius. That’ll take a little time; enough for you two to talk. He’s in cell 3B.’

Then he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, leaving Albus with a sinking gut and the disapproving gaze of his aunt.

‘That was very -’

‘Correct?’ Albus turned on her, scowling. ‘You don’t even agree with him, not if you knew we were working with Doyle. And Uncle Ron’s clearly going to do what he’s told. But Dad’s -’

‘ _Hating_ that he has to do everything by a process, and that he has responsibilities to a whole slew of people, and wishing his own son didn’t have to hurl himself into danger to do what he thought needed doing.’ Hermione’s voice remained low and firm. ‘I doubt Doyle will be in jail long. He does need to cooperate with the IMC, and if this scares him into being a team player, then perhaps that’s what has to happen. But you’re not IMC. You’re not Auror Office. And he doesn’t need this from his own son.’

‘He needs it from _someone,’_ Albus snapped. ‘And you’re right, I’m not IMC or Auror Office. I actually get things done.’

‘We’re trying -’

‘Then how about you stop lecturing me and either check up on your daughter, or go help Lillian Rourke make the world stop screwing around? If that’s what it’ll take to make the proper authorities more useful than one lone rich man?’

Hermione’s lips thinned to the sort of disapproving expression he was used to getting from Rose. ‘You might have come back, Albus,’ she said, ‘but you can still work _with_ your family, not against. Talk to them.’

‘Talking to my _family,’_ said Albus, and turned away, ‘is exactly what I’m going to do.’

Either his father had told the cell guards to let him through, or nobody was going to get in the way of Harry Potter’s son. He was unimpeded leaving the interrogation rooms for the jail, and a dour-faced Enforcer escorted him down the line of barred cells until he was there.

Scorpius sat on the bench, head resting against the stark, grey wall. His eyes were shut, but one slid open at the footsteps, and the corner of his lip twisted. ‘I guess if they’re letting you see me, they’re not about to lock me up and throw away the key.’

‘They’ll want a debriefing. And I bet they’re going to keep a close eye on you.’ Albus stood in the corridor, suddenly awkward, and wrung his hands together. ‘But they believe you. The blood tests; Thane’s admission under Veritaserum… I guess it really is you.’

Their eyes met. ‘I thought you believed me?’

Something stuck in Albus’ throat. ‘I did. But I’ve seen how leaps of faith can be wrong.’

Scorpius’ brow creased, and he got to his feet. ‘I am so, so sorry how things have gone down the last few years, mate. I mean - I couldn’t control any of it, I just…’

‘Why didn’t you come back?’ Albus glared at a spot just above Scorpius’ head. ‘When Thane busted you out of Council hands. Why did you stay with _him,_ why didn’t you come back to, to… us…’ To me.

‘I tried.’ Scorpius’ expression fell. ‘I _wanted_ to, I mean… I almost did. Thane warned me it was all different, and I read the papers, got some intel… I knew Rose was with Matt. I knew you were gone. What was I supposed to come back for? You’ve seen the chaos I’ve caused by being around for less than a day.’

Albus grimaced, but nodded. ‘And then there’s your father.’

‘Thane told you about that. Good.’ Scorpius’ lips twisted. ‘I knew - I mean, they told me in Ager Sanguinis. He’s the reason Thane handed the Resurrection Stone over to me in Hogwarts, he’s the reason they found us in Venice, he’s the reason Thane had the funding and the mandate to get me _back._ So I guess I owe him that, except _fuck_ him.’

‘Dad’s ordered his arrest.’

‘Good,’ Scorpius said again, but didn’t look much reassured. ‘Bloody hell. If he’s being brought in, if Thane’s locked up, if I’m _not_ staying locked up… what happens next?’

‘I don’t know,’ Albus sighed, and extended his hand through the bars. ‘But I do know we can handle all of it like we always have, mate. Together?’

Now Scorpius smiled, now he grinned that grin that lit up his eyes and made the world that happier, more fun place which was only a hazy memory, and he clasped his hand for a firm shake. ‘Together.’

* *

He’d plunged his hand into fire, and it wouldn’t stop burning. He writhed, twisted, tried to pull it back, but the skin seared away, blackened and charred until it was just bone, and even if he lashed out, it _wouldn’t stop burning -_

‘Matty!’

When Matt’s eyes flashed open, his throat was so hoarse he realised he’d been screaming. But he wasn’t stood in fire, he wasn’t stood before Joachim Raskoph, he wasn’t in France; he was in a white bed with white walls under white light, with the dark eyes of his older sister gazing down on him. Her hands were on his shoulders, lips pursed with concern, and she drew a deep breath as he saw her. ‘Matty, you’re alright.’

‘Annie…’ His voice came parched and cracked, and he slumped on the bed, eyelids drooping. ‘What happened - where - Raskoph, Selena -’

‘You’re home, or, I mean, you’re in Britain.’ Annie Doyle let go of him as he stopped struggling and reached for a small bottle, which she lifted to his lips. ‘Drink this. Your friends got you back. Everyone’s safe, and you’re… you’re okay.’

But she looked pale and worn, and her voice creaked, and his hand still smoldered. With a groan he pushed himself up with his left elbow and drank the acrid substance. He squinted around the room as he tried to ignore the taste. Annie was not alone; Rose stood at the foot of the bed, exhausted and worn, and in the corner sat Selena. She was a silent bundle, a blanket around her, bags under her eyes, but her gaze was locked on him with a quiet blaze he didn’t understand.

‘We got Selena out,’ said Rose in a small voice. ‘And Thane and Saida and - and Scorpius are in jail. Uncle Harry’s sorting all of that out. You did it, Matt, you pulled it all off…’

Even sitting up was tiring, though, and Matt slumped back. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I don’t…’

_‘Rose -’_

Annie’s hand was at his left shoulder, touch gentle. ‘The Healers have done everything they can. You’re going to be fine, and there are long-term options we can look at, but what happened was - I don’t know if you remember it…’

Pain. He remembered pain, and blood, and a soul-wrenching fear that went even deeper than his terror they would fail their mission. With shuddering breath he looked down at his burning hand, only to see white sheets and the white bandage-wrapped stump of his right arm.

‘Oh,’ he said, voice bland because there was no emotion which fit. ‘Shit.’

‘There are options,’ Rose reeled off, a little fast, like she was relaying answers in a stressful test. ‘Magical prosthetics, but first you need to rest and recover and the Healers will talk about things.’

‘Sophie’s going to be here, she’ll be pulled out of Hogwarts tonight; Mum would be sorting that out but she’s got…’ Annie’s face creased. ‘Matty, I don’t want to put too much on you -’

‘What _else_ has happened?’ His mouth felt like he’d swallowed a carpet.

Annie managed to not give Rose a reproachful glance as she said, ‘Dad’s been arrested by the Aurors. They think he’s been stealing information from the Ministry, interfering with IMC operations, and undermining the war with the Council of Thorns.’

‘Oh,’ Matt said again, and when he coughed it came with a rueful laugh. ‘I guess he _has_ been doing that.’

‘They’re also investigating Uncle Toby on suspicion of helping him…’

‘Hell’s teeth…’

‘And - look, you should rest.’ Annie looked down at her hands. ‘You really are going to be okay.’

 _I don’t have a hand,_ Matt thought, his gaze going to the ceiling. _That’s a textbook definition of ‘not okay’._ The blazing in his wrist remained, a dull throbbing sense that threatened to make any rest impossible, but he was too worn, too exhausted, to feel anything other than slow-dawning acceptance.

What _use_ would any other feeling be, anyway?

‘I’ll check in with Mum,’ said Annie after a pause, and got to her feet, brushing herself down. ‘I’ll just be outside.’ He croaked an answer, then she was gone, and all he had was Rose’s awkward gaze and Selena’s blazing stare, and the burning in his hand.

It was Rose who spoke, still in that tense, quick voice. ‘Matt, I’m so sorry…’

‘Don’t…’ _Don’t look at me like that,_ was what he wanted to say, but his voice did him the mercy of cracking before the words could come. ‘Did we get the Chalice?’

‘We did - there’s lots happening, but you don’t need to worry about it for -’

‘Can I just - I think I’d like to rest. Just for a bit.’

Rose stared at him for a moment, then nodded. ‘Okay.’ She padded to his side, reached out to smooth the sheets on the bed like he had no hands instead of one, and bent down to give him an awkward peck on the forehead. ‘I’ll check in with things, but I’ll be back, okay?’

He just nodded and slumped back, eyes shutting, and heard her walk off, heard the door to his room creak open and shut. His jaw tightened in the silence as his chest did, a choking sense to cut off all breath, all thought, as the fire in his hand - no, in his wrist, in his _stump_ \- spread along the arm, into his lungs, smothered him -

‘I can go,’ came a low voice and the scraping of stool legs, ‘I just wanted to - to -’

Matt’s eyes snapped open to see Selena pulling up the stool next to the bed. She was pale, her hair a state, worn and exhausted, with sunken cheeks and dark eyes. When her fingers reached for his left hand, he could feel the tremble in her touch, and squeezed back. The fire in his throat subsided, and a drained smile came to his lips, unbidden. ‘Hey - you _are_ okay, aren’t you? They didn’t hurt you?’

Her breath caught and she shook her head, mute for a moment. ‘No, no. I’m _fine,_ don’t you worry about me, don’t you _dare_ worry about me -’

‘I _do…’_ Then their fingers were entwined, and she’d bowed her head for golden hair to trail over the white bedsheets, along the back of his hand. The fire faded to dull embers, and its absence made his head spin and dip and dive amongst the blazing light of this white sanctum.

‘I know,’ she breathed. ‘They told me what you did, how much you did to get me back.’

‘We all -’

‘They told me how much you did.’ Selena’s gaze snapped up to meet his, clear-eyed and anguished. ‘And I saw you in Saint Annard, I saw how you _fought,_ you stupid, _stupid_ man…’

But the reproach was grief-stricken rather than admonishing, and he pulled his hand from hers to raise it. His fingertips brushed across her cheek and she tilted her head to press it against her palm, breathing unsteady. ‘You’re okay,’ Matt whispered, and without the fire holding him down, he could _float,_ or so it felt. ‘You’re okay, and that’s _all_ that matters, and I’d lose a thousand hands for that price if it meant you could keep spinning gold all over me with your hair…’

Her gaze flickered, then the tiniest smile of wry realisation crossed her face. ‘Oh, Merlin.’ Guilt faded from her voice. ‘Those anti-pain draughts are really kicking in, aren’t they.’

 _Maybe._ ‘I mean it,’ he said instead, thumb running a line across her jaw, like he could brush away the tarnish coating the silver and gold he knew was underneath her pain. ‘You’re okay and that’s everything, and you don’t look at me like I’m saving you from drowning and you _owe_ me for it… and I didn’t mean to run to Rose over you, I didn’t, I _really_ didn’t…’

Her touch at his wrist tightened and her lips parted, but he carried on before she could cut him off. He was floating, but all of this was holding him down, pinning him down, and if he didn’t shrug off these burdens then the fire he could still feel thrumming through his right wrist would consume him whole.

‘I had to help her,’ he croaked, ‘but I thought you were running from me. I thought you were pushing me away, and I tried and tried, but I couldn’t. I wanted to chase you, but I had to help Rose, and I couldn’t do both, so I helped her when she was in pain and I thought you… I thought you ran from me.’ Her face sank as he rambled, but now she wasn’t interrupting him. ‘I don’t know if I got too close, or if you thought I’d hurt you, and I’m _sorry._ So when it _mattered,_ I had to do this, I had to… to save you. And I always will, if you - let me save you…’

Every word took a chunk out of her veneer of control he had never been deceived by. When his voice trailed off, she was staring at him with a sunken expression of grief and guilt, until she pulled away to stand, and the absence of her touch was like fire again at his fingertips.

‘You need to rest,’ said Selena in a low voice he’d never heard her use before. With only a moment’s hesitation, she bent down to kiss him on the forehead, and that was enough, for now, to douse the flames. ‘You stupid, stupid, dear man.’

He wanted to catch the gold that dangled at him as she bent, but then it was gone and so was she. _Let me save you,_ he thought, drifting amid the white sheets and the white walls and the white lights of his hospital room, with the faintest embers at the stump where his right arm ended.


	14. Some Ten Steps

‘So there’s nowhere you’d guess he might have gone?’ 

Scorpius shrugged across the desk at Ron Weasley. The two of them had been sat in the processing office down in Canary Wharf, arranging his release, for a half-hour now. Neither was thrilled with the situation. ‘Auror-Captain, there are about a _gazillion_ places my father might have gone to ground. He has more business premises across the world than I can count. And I can count pretty high.’ He leaned back, which rattled the obligatory cuffs. ‘He owns a boat, I’m sure. And I think he was investing in developing magical airplanes, to be better than the Muggle ones. But his infrastructure might have grown. My information isn’t that up to date. I’ve been out of the world a while.’ 

He was rewarded with the faintest grimace from Ron, who dutifully noted this down anyway. ‘We have to ask, Mister Malfoy.’ 

‘I know. And I wish I could help more. But I didn’t involve myself in my father’s affairs at the best of times. These really haven’t been the best of times.’ 

‘Of course. If you think of anything -’ 

‘I’ll let you know.’ 

Ron scribbled something down. ‘You’ll be at the Manor?’ 

‘No. I’ll get a hotel room somewhere. I imagine your men need to go over the place anyway.’ 

‘We do, but that won’t take long.’ Ron shrugged. ‘Leaky Cauldron?’ 

‘I have _some_ standards.’ 

‘Way I heard it, you don’t have _money_.’ 

‘Albus is going to pay.’ Scorpius sighed. ‘Because he’s a good egg. I mean, he’s calling it _my_ money, but it’s still his. Even once I sort out being legally not-dead - _again_ \- it doesn’t roll back a will. It’s complicated.’ 

‘I’ll have some Enforcers escort you to wherever you go,’ said Ron. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s -’ 

‘It’s fine.’ Scorpius gave him an apologetic, lopsided smile. ‘I’m a man back from the dead to associate with Prometheus Thane. Honestly, I’m just glad I’m not in _jail_.’ 

‘Can’t lie,’ said Ron. ‘If you were anyone else, you probably would be. But you’ve seen the headlines.’ 

‘I have, they were good enough to let me read the paper. “ _Hero Returns_ _”_. Not very imaginative, but I’ll take it.’ Scorpius sobered and looked away. ‘You’re choosing to trust me, and I get that you don’t have a lot of reason to. I won’t abuse that trust. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.’ 

‘Good. A word of warning?’ Ron’s gaze went serious. ‘And this isn’t about me trusting you or not trusting you. Don’t screw around. If people get reason to doubt you, they’ll to drop a _tonne_ of bricks on your head. They will _bury_ you. Political mess, rifts between families, or not.’ 

‘I know.’ He grimaced, and intently studied Ron’s shoulder. ‘How’s - how’s Rose? How’s she been?’ 

Ron flinched. ‘I’m not sure I’m the man to -’ 

‘You’re her father, you’d know.’ Guilt rose in Scorpius’ chest, and he waved a hand. ‘Sorry. I’m not asking you to spy, or anything. Just, I mean - is she happy?’ 

‘She had a hell of a time after losing you…’ 

‘But now? Or, at least, _before_ I came back, with her new job and Matt and all. Is she happy?’ 

When Ron hesitated, Scorpius had his answer. He didn’t know if it made him feel worse or if it was kindling something ancient and powerful that had come back with his bones. He _did_ know that, despite asking, he didn’t want to think about it too much. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Stupid question. Not my business.’ 

‘I reckon it’s your business.’ Ron scratched his nose. ‘I just reckon it’s not _my_ business to play go-between.’ 

Scorpius gave a stupid, self-conscious grin. ‘Ron Weasley playing go-between for his daughter and her ex-boyfriend, the son of Draco Malfoy _back from the dead_.’ The unspoken twisted in his gut, made his smile feel sour. 

Ron couldn’t smother a short bark of laughter. ‘Bugger me, our lives aren’t half complicated.’ He sobered after a moment. ‘I’m sorry about your father. Never liked him, but I thought he was done with being an evil bastard.’ 

‘I’ve known this a while. But thanks. I know you’ll catch him, and then he can carry on the fine, upstanding family tradition of life imprisonment. It’s a bit worrying, though. He disappears _just_ as Thane and me are brought in? That sounds like a tip-off. I promise it wasn’t me. Cross my heart and hope to die again. I was too busy being blasted by Rose to tip him off.’ 

‘We’re on it.’ Ron sighed, and stacked up his papers. ‘If you learn anything, if you change hotels, make sure you tell us. Or next time we meet, I’ll probably be turning blasting you into the _Weasley_ tradition.’ He stood. ‘We’re done here, barring you lending us a hand with the last little thing.’ 

Scorpius nodded, and lifted his wrists. ‘Happy to help. And happy to get these off.’ 

Ron removed the cuffs, and gestured for him to wait before he left the small, cramped processing office. Scorpius kicked back on the chair, rubbing where the metal had chafed, and let his eyes shut. Soon. He’d be out of here soon and, so long as he kept in touch with the authorities, so long as he cooperated, wouldn’t have to go back to a cell. 

He didn’t know how long it was until the door opened again, but he almost fell over when he saw the woman stood at the entrance, dripping trepidation. ‘Professor…!’ 

Nathalie Lockett stared at him like he was an apparition, stared at him like she thought he might disappear if she averted her gaze even for a heartbeat. ‘Scorpius - we talked about this…’ 

He drew a deep breath and swallowed bile and shame. ‘Nat…’ 

Then she’d crossed the room to drag him out of his chair into a white-knuckled embrace, and all he could do was clutch at her, the first person who hadn’t looked at him like he might be a lie or a trap or both, the first person to take him at face value. But still the words rose like they always did, desperate and pleading. ‘I’m real,’ he whispered, almost a head taller than her and still letting himself be held. ‘I’m real, I promise, I’m not a trick…’ 

‘Christ, I know. I know.’ When she pulled back to hold him at arms’ length, her eyes were shining. ‘I mean, I heard the reports - in the papers, around the office, from Granger. They wouldn’t let you out if they weren’t sure. And you’re here, right in front of me. It really _is_ you. I didn’t fail you -’ 

‘ _Fail_ \- Professor - Nat, _no_.’ He clutched her arms. ‘How could you have failed me…’ 

‘You were my responsibility, all of you. I had to make it _right_ …’ 

‘You’re making it right.’ Scorpius grinned the grin he knew could make anyone smile, and she returned it, broad enough to banish this guilt he couldn’t comprehend, to banish the shine in her eyes. ‘It’s so damn good to see you, it really is. How’ve you _been_ , what did I _miss_ …’ 

Her eyes roamed his face for a moment, like she was drinking in every inch of him as if searching for an imperfection, and his heart swelled as nothing cracked the awe and delight in her expression. ‘I’m sorry. I went and got married without my Chief Meddler.’ 

He gasped with mock-horror. ‘How _could_ you…’ 

‘It was just small! I was away for a while, after you - you died. I did more international work, I didn’t want to be in Britain, but I knew I couldn’t run forever, so I came back, and Cal and I got married this year. Everything’s okay.’ Her smile softened, stopped being a mirror of his and became her own. ‘It’s really okay.’ 

Scorpius’s throat tightened. ‘The Council of Thorns is rising again. They’ve got Lethe because _I_ _’m_ alive again. So many people are dead from that, it’s _not_ okay…’ He cut himself off, or he’d say more, and he didn’t know how to. 

She lifted her hand to grasp his. ‘ _They_ have done this. Not you. You think they didn’t have other projects, other ways of remaking Lethe, or making something _else_? They were going to find a way. If they had the resources to bring you back, they had the resources to make _some_ sort of move. Something was going to happen, and it’s on _their_ heads, and the people who brought Lethe back. Not on you. You didn’t choose this.’ 

‘It’s _because_ of me -’ 

‘It’s because of _them_.’ Her voice was a slap to bring him to his senses, surprisingly vehement for someone who could detach like Nathalie Lockett. ‘They were going to do something. They were going to kill people. At least this way… at least this way, you’ve got another chance. And that’s _everything_.’ 

Confessions rose in his throat, but he knew he wouldn’t form them into words, couldn’t begin to express them, not with that hope and fire in her eyes. He let out a shaky breath. ‘That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it? And why you’re here.’ 

‘You don’t have to see him. I can do this myself.’ 

‘I’ll need to do it some day. And this shows good faith, which I could do with. And I’d rather have backup.’ _Which won_ _’t judge me_. 

Lockett nodded, and pulled up her own chair next to his. ‘He’s being brought up.’ 

It was five minutes of a silence that was refreshingly relaxed before the door scraped open at last and another Enforcer brought another prisoner in. 

Prometheus Thane did not look at all reduced by his day of incarceration. His eyes were bright, and despite remaining scruffy and dirtied from the fighting in France, not even the cuffs at his wrists and ankles, the way he was dragged about by the guard, damaged his aristocratic poise. He cooperated as he was sat in a chair and shackled to it, and kept a mild, polite smile on his face while Lockett dismissed the Enforcer. 

Only then did he speak, gaze landing on Scorpius. ‘You’re free?’ 

‘So long as I cooperate.’ 

‘There’s no need to be guilty,’ said Thane, and Scorpius internally cursed. He had not meant to be so transparent. ‘I had all the choices in the world, and made them willingly. You have had so few, and you deserve a life.’ He looked to Lockett, and something danced in his eyes. ‘And this must be the vaunted Professor Lockett. It’s so delightful to make your acquaintance at last.’ 

‘We met,’ Lockett drawled. ‘I was just unconscious at the time. It made for a much more pleasant meeting.’ 

‘Now, now. I assume you want my cooperation, so we can keep our manners, can’t we?’ 

Lockett pulled out a notepad and pen, expression set. ‘You’ve been told the deal. Cooperate with all of our efforts against the Council, and it will be taken into account in your sentencing.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Thane. ‘Assuming I’m sentenced by a British or IMC court, which I know France and Greece wouldn’t be thrilled by. And in Britain, it’ll make no difference; I get life imprisonment either way, because you don’t use Dementors any more.’ 

‘Then cooperate with us here, and maybe you get to _stay_ in Britain, or maybe we make sure France doesn’t get you Kissed.’ 

Scorpius drew a raking breath. ‘Prometheus - we’re still fighting the Council. I thought it was what you believed in?’ 

Thane looked at him, eyes still bright, unconcerned. ‘You know, neither one of us would be here if you hadn’t been so intent on rescuing Miss Rourke, on cooperating with your old team. Does that please you?’ 

‘This wasn’t a double-cross -’ 

‘No, you just acted as your conscience dictated, and it so happens that _you_ walk free and _I_ stay in a cell.’ 

‘Maybe,’ said Lockett sharply, ‘that’s not about his choices so much as the two of you getting what you deserve.’ 

Scorpius rubbed his bare wrists. _This_ , he thought as Lockett’s words stabbed his chest, _is not what I deserve_. ‘We had questions.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Thane, still in that calm, amiable voice. ‘How can I be of service to the IMC?’ 

‘The Chalice of Emrys,’ said Lockett. ‘You chased it. You wanted it. Why?’ 

Thane stared at her, eyebrows raising a half-inch. ‘You’re actually asking that.’ 

‘What did you want to use it for? To cure Lethe? Or just to deny the Council a weapon?’ Her voice remained low, clipped, and she twirled the pen in her fingers as she spoke. 

Thane went to lift his hands to his face, but the cuffs stopped him with a rattle so sudden it made both Scorpius and Lockett jolt. ‘This is incredible,’ he declared, and promptly burst out laughing. 

The pen was slammed down. ‘ _Thane_ -’ 

Scorpius’ gut surged. ‘Prometheus, if you can just _talk_ -’ 

‘I don’t know anything you don’t know, Scorpius!’ Thane shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, you must have thought I was holding out on you, that I had more secrets. I needed the Chalice to figure out the next step. I wish I could help you; feed me some more of your very good Veritaserum, Professor, and I’ll say the same.’ 

Lockett looked over Scorpius. ‘What’s he talking about?’ 

‘We knew what we’d do with the Chalice,’ said Scorpius, throat as tight as his voice. ‘I just wondered if there was another way; if studying it would show…’ 

‘There _is_ no other way, Scorpius. You know that. The question isn’t _what_ , the question is _how_.’ Thane sobered, handsome face contorting into a grimace. ‘I’m sorry. I know nothing more.’ 

‘Is someone going to answer this question?’ said Lockett. 

Thane’s lips twisted. ‘Yes, Scorpius. Let us raise the Professor from her ignorance.’ 

‘I don’t know why you find this so funny,’ Scorpius growled. 

‘I’m doomed, one way or another, by your naivety and your lady love’s commendable cynicism. I must find amusement where I can, and for reasons which defy explanation, I find most of this _very_ amusing.’ Thane met his gaze briefly. ‘Most of this.’ 

Scorpius looked away; truths blazing in the eyes of Prometheus Thane were nothing he wanted to be reminded of. ‘We wanted the Chalice,’ he began, ‘because we knew we could use it to stop Lethe. The plague is intrinsically tied to it, it’s continuously powered by it. Take away that power, and every source of the illness will disappear, every infected person will be cured. The Inferi would remain, but… they would just be smarter, controlled Inferi. Not contagious. They wouldn’t be able to make more.’ 

‘So you wanted to cut off the power?’ said Lockett. 

‘Fiddling with the magics on how the Chalice works is phenomenal, likely impossible work,’ said Thane. ‘I know that much from studying it - albeit from this side of the Veil - these past two years. No, there’s only one way to cut the Chalice off as a power source for Lethe.’ 

‘It’s simple,’ said Scorpius, mouth tasting like it was full of his own ashes. ‘Or, the _how_ is probably very complicated with something of the ancient power of the Chalice of Emrys, but the principle’s simple: destroy it.’

* * 

Healer Dwyer had been Head Boy at Hogwarts in Matt’s fifth year. He’d been a Ravenclaw, a competent organiser, but truly terrible at talking to people. Matt could remember sitting as a neonate prefect in his first briefing on the Hogwarts express, with Dwyer stumbling over words. He hadn’t improved much. 

‘Your stump’s healing up well, Mister Doyle,’ he said as he whisked into the room, without any of the officiousness he was trying to project. ‘The one perk of that kind of magic is that the wound was at least simple, clean.’ 

‘Oh, good,’ Matt drawled. His head was not entirely clear of the painkilling drugs. ‘A simple, clean dismemberment. I’d hate to have had a complicated, dirty dismemberment.’ 

Dwyer’s face pinched. ‘It means you have a much higher chance of the possibility of us maybe being able to fix a prosthetic.’ 

‘Chance. Possibility. Maybe.’ Matt stared at the space where his hand was supposed to be, and saw only linen sheets. ‘What manner of prosthetic?’ 

‘There are, uh, living metals. Over time, they’ll bond with the flesh and react almost exactly as how a real hand would; _that_ _’s_ why it’s good it’s been a clean cut,’ Dwyer stammered. ‘Less trauma to the nerve-endings. If it’ll take, we should be able to apply the prosthetic directly instead of needing some vitality magic procedures to -’ 

‘I get it.’ Matt did not look up. ‘What do I do to maximise these chances?’ 

Dwyer brightened. ‘Ah! We have some exercises for you to do, keep the muscles active and all of your instincts as intact as possible, not to mention various potions to maintain the connections in your nerves. And, of course, dull the pain.’ 

_My favourite thing_. Matt nodded, his expression unchanging. ‘What do you need from me today?’ 

‘Oh. I was just checking up on you.’ Finally, Dwyer got to his actual reason for being there, and lifted his clipboard to read the questions that were becoming part of the daily routine of being trapped in this wretched corner of Saint Mungo’s. Only after he was done did he finally look to the door and blink with recollection. ‘Ah, and you have visitors.’ 

‘I was expecting Mum to be -’ 

‘It’s Miss Weasley, actually. Your girlfriend.’ 

Matt wasn’t sure if Dwyer was being awkward, or if he thought it was worth specifying which Miss Weasley in particular had shown up. This was not an unreasonable precaution. 

But his heart just pinched at the prospect of Rose showing up, to again stare at him with those apprehensive eyes. It was typical; she was looking more alive than she had in years, which he’d told himself was what he wanted. But now he wanted to be far away from it, and he didn’t want to think about why. 

Dwyer took his silence as a dismissal and presumably as a prompt to send Rose in, because once Matt closed his eyes, the Healer was gone, and when he opened them, Rose was perched on the stool next to his bed. Or, possibly, several hours had passed. With these potions, it was hard to tell. 

‘Hey,’ she said, and now that her eyes weren’t empty, the honest pain was stifling. ‘They say you might be able to come home in a couple of days -’ 

‘But they’ll want to try fitting a prosthetic first,’ he said, voice like a desert. ‘Yeah. Dwyer said.’ 

She forced a weak smile. ‘I’ve started to sort the flat out so it’ll be ready when you come home -’ 

‘What’s _ready_?’ His jaw tightened. ‘You’re going to make everything operable with just the one hand?’ But he saw her gaze flicker and, with a groan, slumped back on the pillows. ‘Sorry. That sounds nice.’ 

Her hand came to his left arm, squeezing gently. ‘I’m trying. I know this is going to be awkward, but I’m really trying.’ 

_I don_ _’t need much out of you. Just don’t look at me like I’m a bomb that might go off_. Even if he knew being stared at like that made him _more_ likely to snap. ‘Have you heard anything about Dad?’ 

‘They’ve arrested Tobias Grey, too -’ 

‘ _What_?’ The world spun as Matt shot upright. ‘What the _hell_ , your uncle’s locking up _newspaper editors_ , too -’ 

‘On suspicion that they’ve been working together to steal Ministry information. Which they _did_ do, Matt, we can’t get outraged about this. Your father had all sorts on the Council operations, and now they’re talking about Ministry corporate oversight documents which they bribed an official to get them.’ Rose’s expression sank. ‘They’re talking about multiple operations he’s interfered with.’ 

Frustration bubbled in his chest, but the throbbing in his stump sawed at its fire. ‘Hypocrites,’ he hissed. ‘The whole bloody IMC, the Aurors. How _dare_ they -’ 

‘We have to have some form of unity in this, Matt -’ 

‘You didn’t think that when _we_ went after Selena!’ he snapped, dark spots of anger creeping into his vision. ‘You didn’t think that when Dad rescued us from Ager Sanguinis.’ 

‘I wasn’t,’ Rose said a little coldly, ‘thinking _anything_ after Ager Sanguinis. And you need to rest.’ 

Her hand was gentle at his good shoulder, but anger was as exhausting as pain, and he flopped back onto the bed. Even that small movement made his stump throb, and he clenched his jaw. When his vision started to level out, he could see her expression, that shut down mask of dead control. 

He knew it well. And he was sick of the sight of it. 

When he spoke, his words tasted like gravel. ‘Have you seen him yet?’ 

She took too long before she said, ‘Who?’ 

‘Who do you _think_?’ 

She flinched. ‘No. No, I haven’t.’ 

‘You can’t hide from him forever.’ 

‘I’m not _hiding_.’ 

‘It’s been a day. Your ex-boyfriend’s back from the dead -’ 

‘And my _boyfriend_ has just -’ She jerked a hand at his stump, and he knew he was going to despise people talking _around_ his injury more than it being discussed frankly. ‘This is more important.’ 

‘I appreciate your support,’ he lied, ‘but there’s not much for you to do here.’ 

She glared at him, for the first time in an age. ‘ _Why_ do you want me to?’ 

‘Because it’s inevitable. Because it’s something you need to do.’ _Because you_ _’re using my bedside as a place to hide._ He had to concentrated to extend his left hand and touch her arm. ‘Because right now, I could do _this_ , and I’m still not reaching you.’ It wasn’t anger he felt. Anger was still diverted by the throbbing stump. But it certainly wasn’t sympathy that fizzed through his veins. 

The ache in his arm subsided a little as she dropped her gaze, and shame flickered across her face. ‘I don’t - I’m sorry, Matt. I’m trying. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to _do_.’ 

‘Let’s start with giving up our pretending. Scorpius is back, my Dad’s in prison, and I _don_ _’t have a hand_.’ His hand dropped. ‘You can _say_ it.’ 

She stared at the stump, but the door swung open before she could summon a response. Matt didn’t know if he was relieved to see his mother, or jarred at the interruption, but either way Rose shot to her feet as if stung. 

‘I should - I’ll let you talk,’ she mumbled, and fairly fled the room with little more than pleasantries. 

Jen Doyle didn’t stop her, but seemed thoroughly nonplussed as she shut the door behind her. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looks worse off than _you_.’ 

‘Losing a hand. Boyfriend coming back from the dead. It’s much the same.’ Somehow, with his mother, it was more natural to make light of it than be frustrated, but still his expression creased with worry. ‘Are _you_ okay?’ 

‘In this day and age, there are worse places for your father to be than in jail.’ Her expression flattened as she sat next to him. ‘Unfortunately, the case has been taken out of the Auror Division’s hands.’ 

‘Why’s that unfortunate? By all accounts, Potter’s going authoritarian as hell.’ 

‘He is,’ Jen conceded. ‘But this has been passed right up to the office of the Minister. Because, I don’t know, Halvard needs to pretend he’s _relevant_ while Lillian Rourke runs the world.’ 

‘This isn’t just about scapegoats? You think they’re trying to keep Dad and Toby out the way?’ 

She sighed, and smoothed his sheets. ‘I don’t know. I can only do so much. It’s not appropriate for my office to handle my own husband’s case. It’s not like there isn’t plenty of _other_ work for me to do.’ She met his gaze. ‘And you have better things to worry about.’ 

‘ _Other_ things to worry about, I grant you,’ Matt said wryly, and twitched his stump. ‘I’m not sure they’re better.’ 

Her expression folded with guilt. ‘I’m not going to be around as much as I’d like. Lillian - I expect she’s trying to be helpful - is seconding me to the IMC as she has to get swathes of reforms of international law pushed through. I won’t be out the country all the time, but…’ 

‘You really need to keep working while Dad’s in prison?’ 

Jen tensed, gaze dropping. ‘Sophie’s back in Hogwarts. Annie’s back at work. You have Rose. If you need me, I _will_ refuse to go. Otherwise, I would like to stay busy.’ 

Matt watched his mother - the one who’d never approved of his father’s work, the one who’d fought a war so the rule of law meant justice instead of oppression, and pretended he couldn’t see how fine the strings which held her up really were. ‘Oh,’ he sighed, and closed his eyes. ‘That’s where I get it from.’

* * 

‘Savage, Jennings.’ Albus gave the Aurors sat at the end of the corridor in the Caelestis Hotel false smiles. ‘Best job in the department right now, huh?’ 

Savage was an old hand at Auror business, so his idea of surveillance on a cooperating Scorpius Malfoy was to sit with his feet up, reading the paper. ‘Beats fighting Yank zombies. Which I’ve been doing, so don’t get sarcastic, kid.’ 

Jennings was a bit too new to make cracks at her boss’s son. ‘Everything’s all quiet, Mister Malfoy’s settled into his suite, except -’ 

Savage elbowed her. ‘You don’t _report_ to him, Merlin.’ 

‘I was just going to -’ Jennings flapped, and gave Albus a plaintive look. ‘His mum showed up. She’s in there now. Thought you might want to know and not interrupt.’ 

Albus looked at Savage. ‘See? That’s good investigating by the Auror Department.’ He did not want to intrude on a reunion between Scorpius and his mother, so he perched on the table, arms folding across his chest. 

‘Hellfire,’ Savage swore. ‘You got uppity while you were away. If you were my boy, I’d have dragged you back by your ear months ago.’ 

‘If you were my father, I’d have done a better job of disappearing.’ 

‘Your father’s doing the best he can right now. People like Doyle and Grey are liabilities -’ 

‘I get enough of these arguments at home. I don’t need them from Dad’s flunkies.’ 

Jennings opened her mouth, looking like she wasn’t sure what she was going to say - then Scorpius’ door swung open, and out stepped Astoria Greengrass, dark hair tied back, red-eyed. 

‘Look alive and polite, girl,’ Savage muttered to Jennings, and they all rose as Scorpius’ mother walked down the corridor. 

But she ignored the two Aurors, and turned to Albus with a watery smile. ‘Al; you didn’t need to wait out here.’ He hadn’t seen her since the Chalice hunt and he’d never had much interaction with Scorpius’ parents, but Astoria hugged him anyway. It was an emotional day, he reasoned. She probably needed a lot of hugs. 

So he mustered his best, polite smile as he pulled back. ‘I’d hate to interrupt you two catching up.’ 

‘It’s a miracle, isn’t it? I’m still struggling to understand…’ Astoria’s voice trailed off, and she shook her head. ‘Anyway, you go see him. I’m sure you’ve missed him terribly, and I’ll be back.’ 

‘You’re staying in England?’ 

‘For a time.’ She glanced at Savage. ‘I’m due to help the hard-working Auror Department trace my ex-husband. I’m not sure how much _use_ my input will be, but I’ll try.’ 

Savage shrugged. ‘This is Captain Weasley’s case, ma’am.’ 

‘Can your relief teams in America spare you?’ Albus raised his eyebrows. 

‘Everything’s ticking over, thanks to the IMC’s swift response to the Council threat. They can handle the mopping up.’ 

Savage looked at Jennings. ‘Take her to the office to see the Captain, would you?’ 

Jennings was too junior to object to being talked to like that, and sprang to her feet with a helpful smile. ‘Ma’am, if you’d come this way?’ 

Astoria was led off, and Albus had no desire to linger with Savage, so he went down the corridor and rapped on Scorpius’ door, entering at the summons. ‘I can come back later, mate, if you need a moment…’ 

It was a big suite that Scorpius had booked at one of the more expensive, modern hotels on Diagon Alley; several rooms, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows onto polished wood and opulent furnishings. Scorpius stood at the balcony doors, arms folded across his chest. When he turned, he looked pale, worn, tired, but his smile reached his eyes. ‘It’s okay. I’m alright, that was just… a bit draining.’ 

‘Yeah. I can imagine.’ 

‘I mean, what do I _say_? Yes, I’m alive. Yes, I’m here. Yes, I’m happy to see you. Oh, you’re crying. Lots. And I still have very complicated abandonment issues, but this isn’t the time.’ Scorpius’ brow knotted. ‘It’s mental.’ 

‘She… seemed to take it hard. I mean, she’s your _mum_ , of course she did.’ Albus opened his arms for a big shrug. ‘But setting up relief charities, getting involved with the IMC… I think she was inspired to make a difference, to do _something_.’ 

‘My mother isn’t a leader. She isn’t a planner. She isn’t a problem solver.’ Scorpius rubbed his temples. ‘But she can throw _really good_ fundraisers.’ 

‘Speaking of funds…’ Albus shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘You can afford this place?’ 

‘You barely spent my money, and some wasin various investments and stuff. I think I’ve _made_ money by being dead for two years. Also, now I’m legally _not_ -dead, and now my father’s a renegade on the run in some unknown corner of the world, there’s only so much they can stop me from getting at the family wealth.’ 

‘It’s very you.’ 

‘It’s a big suite. You want to crash somewhere, there’s a room with your name on it.’ Scorpius frowned as he wandered over. ‘Figuratively. I didn’t carve “Al” into the door. That would be creepy.’ 

Albus grinned, but felt guilt tinge the smile. ‘I appreciate it, mate. Maybe sometimes, but… one step at a time. I don’t know how my parents would react if I left right now, and I’m _trying_ to keep things on an even keel.’ 

‘Yes, those icy looks with your Dad look like progress.’ Scorpius grasped his shoulder. ‘Is everything alright?’ 

‘No, but look at this world,’ said Albus with a shrug. ‘What _is_ alright?’ 

‘Being alive. Breathing. Having friends.’ Scorpius gave a thin, but not insincere smile. ‘Being dead makes you appreciate the little things.’ 

‘Have you spoken to Rose?’ 

A wince. ‘No, not yet. What’s the etiquette here?’ 

‘For the “back-from-the-dead” boyfriend? I have no clue.’ 

‘Is she - I mean her and Matt, they got together, like, _how_ , and how serious are they…’ 

‘I’ve been gone almost as long as you. I have no idea.’ _I know they lie to each other. I know they hide things from each other. I know Rose has been walking around half as dead as a Lethe Inferius._ All of that felt like spying, though, and Scorpius looked too anxious to be given half-baked theories and hearsay. ‘I’ve not been back long enough to get the scuttlebutt from her _or_ my family.’ 

Scorpius sighed at that, anxious about him, now, rather than his return-from-the-dead anguish. ‘Your family cares about you.’ 

‘You know as well as I do that “caring” isn’t enough, and…’ Al sighed. ‘Dad’s… I don’t know what Dad is. Angry. Frustrated. Taking it out on the world. I can’t agree with what he’s doing, how he’s handling this. Arresting Matt’s father? Pushing for all these powers for his Aurors and the international teams?’ 

‘The war’s been driving lots of people in lots of ways.’ 

‘It doesn’t make it right.’ 

‘No.’ Scorpius blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘But you’re being a bit selective in what you care about.’ 

Albus looked at him, startled. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘These past eight months, I have killed fifteen people.’ Scorpius’ voice dropped, low and taut. ‘Three of them were in cold blood, but I remind myself that these were either ringleaders in the Council of Thorns, or members of governments or the IMC who were _betraying_ the world to the Council. They weren’t going to get locked up, and they had to be stopped. So we - Thane, me, our team - stopped them.’ 

Albus’ throat went dry. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’ 

‘Maybe not. And, yet, I did. Because what was the alternative? Ask them nicely to stop?’ 

‘You could have come home.’ It was hard to say it. It was the truth, and it was a truth he felt in his bones, but the last thing he felt prepared to do was accuse Scorpius. 

‘First, that would mean someone else held the wand. Thane’s war might not have been pretty, or legal, or even very moral, but it needed to happen. Even if I hadn’t been fighting it, it would have gone on. Second, I… I couldn’t come back. I’ve got to be in the action, Al. If I weren’t alive, they wouldn’t have Lethe. Coming back wouldn’t have let me fight.’ 

‘You’re back _now_ ,’ Albus pointed out. ‘And this is sitting in a hotel room, not fighting.’ 

He hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but Scorpius pulled away, stalked over to the counter of the suite’s kitchenette. ‘I’m still figuring that out. It’s easier now the IMC has the Chalice, but this wasn’t the plan. I was meant to stay gone.’ 

‘Until the war ended?’ 

Any answer was cut off by a knock on the door. Scorpius swore and stomped over. ‘This train of well-wishers can sod off. I’ll get rid of them.’ 

_No_ , thought Albus when he saw Rose Weasley stood there with a cardboard box. _You won_ _’t._

‘Er.’ Rose looked between them, expression remarkably taut and calm. ‘Is this a bad time?’ 

‘No,’ said Al quickly, moving to the doorway. ‘Not at all. _Ever_. I’m going to go.’ Somehow, a man as big as him could slip past Rose into the corridor and flee. 

Because of all the things he’d shared with Scorpius, this reunion was not going to be one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I may have said this before, but I’m rejecting Word of JK on the fate of Lucius Malfoy (look, Word of God is a valid literary issue, but mostly I just don’t agree with this bit). I cannot believe that Lucius would be able to get out of prison time by selling out other Death Eaters. The man lied his way out of Azkaban after the First War, and was twice a member of Voldemort’s Inner Circle. He might not have been one of Voldemort’s raving psychopath Death Eaters, but he was a mass murderer and a major figure in the movement. I don’t care how many changes of heart he had - only when out of favour and when_ his own _family was in danger - any administration with any sense of justice could not let him, ostensibly the_ highest-ranking surviving Death Eater _after the War, walk away. It’s insane. Maybe by cooperating and with the little good his family did he might be looking at reduced sentence, but to get away without imprisonment? Any punishment? Not buying it._
> 
> _Also I think I mentioned Lucius being imprisoned in Ignite or Starfall and then Pottermore happened. *shakes fist at sky*_


	15. Take Me, Cast Me Away

‘Do you want a coffee?’ Scorpius blurted the moment he’d shut the door behind Rose. ‘Because I don’t know how the coffee machine works but if you want a coffee I’ll _make_ it work or Floo room service -’ 

_This is our back-from-the-dead reunion and you_ _’re talking about coffee._   
  
She walked past him, and he couldn’t see her expression as she went to the kitchenette counter and put the box down. He could, however, see how straight she held herself, how tense her shoulders were. Her clothes were more plain, practical than he remembered; her hair kept in a tight plait she’d only worn in the past when she was stressed or expecting a fight, but they were days past the do-or-die moments and she was still in what he remembered as crisis mode. 

‘I thought I’d bring you your stuff,’ she said without turning around, her voice too firm, too calm. ‘It’s been in a box for a few years. I didn’t know who’d want it. So I kept it.’ 

Every movement felt clumsy, undignified, like he was smashing his way through a glass shop as he went to join her. ‘Oh,’ was the stunning response he eventually summoned. ‘Thank you.’ 

He saw her shoulders clench even more when he got close, saw her chin jerk up and her expression sink into an emotionless mask that made her almost unrecognisable. ‘Your wand’s in there. And your guitar. And some of your clothes.’ 

‘Thank you,’ he said again, and his voice was as clumsy as his body. She didn’t move, staring into the box, and the suite felt bigger in the silence that stretched out. He flailed for words, eventually settling on, ‘How’s Matt?’ 

Another flicker of the mask. She still didn’t look at him. ‘Still in hospital. They’re talking about prosthetics.’ 

‘Prosthetics. Merlin.’ Not liking Matthias Doyle very much didn’t make him unsympathetic to a case of missing appendages. ‘I’m - I’m glad he’s okay. I hear you two live together now.’ 

‘Yes.’ The word could not have been uttered more emptily. ‘You’re living here?’ 

‘For now. I can’t live in a hotel forever. I’m not staying at Malfoy Manor, and anyway the DMLE are still going over the place to see if they can find any clues about my father…’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘About your father, I’m sorry he’s even worse than you thought.’ 

She was as clumsy as him, another rampaging bull in a china shop. ‘It’s okay,’ he told the counter, because that was easier to look at. ‘I’ve known for months, I’m… I’m sort of sorted with it. As much as one can be.’ 

‘It’s still - I’m sorry,’ she repeated, and he couldn’t tell if she was trying to apologise for more than his father, or if she didn’t know what else to say. Or both. 

He drew a slow breath, fished for words that wouldn’t break glass - then stopped. If she was being as clumsy as him, if she was stumbling and cracking thing, and it wasn’t hurting _him_ , then maybe there wasn’t glass to break. Maybe they were just staggering in the dark, and the only things they’d damage were themselves if they crashed into walls. 

He shut his eyes. ‘Rose…’ He heard her voice catch and still didn’t look at her; wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw her mask shift. ‘I am so, so sorry. Sorry I left, sorry I didn’t come _back_ -’ 

Her exhale ended with a muffled quaver, and he opened his eyes to see her turn away, press the back of her hand to her mouth. ‘You don’t need to _apologise_.’ Her voice wasn’t empty any more; pain rolled off every syllable. 

‘I didn’t want to come back in case it screwed up your life, and now I’m _here_ , and - if you’re happy, if you’ve got a life now, the last thing I want to do is complicate that.’ Before he could stop himself he’d stepped up, lifted a hand by instinct towards her shoulder - but apprehension of all the unspoken billowed in his gut, and he froze. 

‘Happy.’ Her voice was thick enough to lose himself in, and though she tilted her head only an inch, he could see the shine in her eyes. ‘You were gone, how could I be?’ 

‘I’m back now, but it’s not - so much is happening -’ 

Then she turned to face him and the words shrivelled and died in his throat. The mask was down, but he didn’t recognise this Rose either, this creature stood before him of grief and pain and _wonder_ , soft dark eyes shimmering but locked on him with utter focus. It was like she was afraid of blinking in case he disappeared, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. 

Her fingertips quivered as she lifted a hand, and it took all of his self-control to remain still as her touch brushed across his jaw, his cheek. He was like rock before a sculptor, formless without her, and yet there under the stone all along. 

‘Scorpius…’ She whispered his voice like a prayer and an answer, and the unspoken howled inside him in response, a wolf that would not be denied. 

But deny it he did, his hand coming to hers, fingers running along her palm, her wrist. ‘I didn’t want to come back and ruin what you’d rebuilt, but then my hood was off on that ship and I was too _weak_ to lie or run…’ 

‘Don’t run. Don’t you dare run.’ She reached for his shoulder like he wasn’t real if she couldn’t feel him, and with a fresh quaver in her voice, her fist clenched in his jacket. ‘I’ve just got you _back_ …’ 

‘Which is why I didn’t - the war’s not over, it’s still dangerous, I don’t… nothing is certain…’ He needed to make her understand without _saying_ , but he could see she was barely listening, and he didn’t really want to talk either. 

She was clinging to him for comfort, holding him to make sure he was real, tethering to him like a storm would blow her away, and he could feel the abyss stretching out beneath him, too. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she breathed. ‘Whatever happened, it doesn’t _matter_. You think I could hold a grudge, pass judgement…’ 

_It_ _’s not your judgement I’m afraid of._ Her eyelashes splashed a tear to her cheek and his hand was there, thumbing it away. ‘I’ve hurt you too much,’ Scorpius whispered, and, like he hadn’t just admonished himself, he bowed his head to hers. He could feel her breath on his lips, see her eyes flutter shut, saw her shoulders slump with release - and then she turned her head to one side like a snap. 

‘I…’ The one syllable grated past her throat, and she pulled back as if stung, eyes widening. ‘Scorpius - I’m sorry, I…’ 

‘No, _I_ _’m_ sorry.’ He stepped away, too, clasped his hands together as if he could wring out his guilt. ‘You - and Matt - and this is _crazy_ …’ 

‘It’s not crazy.’ Her mask was gone, but so was the shock and awe, and she looked more like the Rose he remembered as she rubbed her temples - if terrified and guilt-ridden. ‘It’s rather like this is a moment I dreamt of for _years,_ so I suddenly forgot reality…’ 

‘And Matt.’ Scorpius nodded firmly. ‘And, you know, the Council of Thorns trying to kill us all.’ 

‘And you’ve got to worry about - the Manor, and your money, and what you’re going to _do_ …’ Another step back, and her expression creased. ‘I should go.’ 

‘Yeah, I… thanks for the stuff.’ 

She only paused to open the door, frozen there a moment, a silhouette of fading past in the threshold. ‘I’m just… glad I was only keeping it for you for a little while.’ But she didn’t look back, and she didn’t wait for an answer before she was gone. Leaving him alone in a room made for a new life he didn’t know how to use, with a box of an old life he knew could never possibly fit him again.

* * 

‘ _…the rout from North America speaks for itself. United, this world_ can _fight the Council, and root out their evil wherever it rests. We responded to the Lethe Attacks swiftly and decisively, and cut our enemy off from an influence on an entire continent._ ’ 

Even if her mother was a good public speaker, by now Selena heard her words as little more than a predictable drone. The usual rhetoric, the inspiring of confidence, the determination to rattle down the wireless and invade all their ears; every bit of it was there, the role the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation needed to play. 

‘ _I believe this validates my call for emergency powers to be granted to the IMC, and to me. My envoys led the way in North America; Director Potter was in overall command of a multi-national force, and he produced results. In the past, departments have clashed over jurisdiction and authority and this has left us weak. I want to compound our success in Chicago, and the lesson learnt is_ unity _. Leadership._ ’ 

From her mother’s office in the DIMC, hearing the speech piped from the press conference down in the atrium through the wireless, Selena could almost _picture_ the sight. But it was old and tiring to her mind’s eye, not inspiring. 

Perhaps familiarity did breed contempt. Or perhaps the fact that she was coming to see her mother for the first time outside of their frantic reunion, and she’d been asked to _wait_ like the average visitor here on bureaucratic business. Not _family_. 

But soon enough the wireless was dictating her mother’s descent from the podium in the atrium far below, and within five minutes Selena could hear the hustle and bustle from the main DIMC office outside the door as Lillian and her staff swept into business. She had to know Selena was there. And still she stopped to give instructions, still she sent her minions packing with specific orders, because heaven forfend the world be left to cope by itself for ten minutes. 

‘I’m not giving you an exclusive,’ said Lillian as she swept into the office, but she was smiling, and Selena remembered that she didn’t actually _want_ a mushy conversation with her mother. 

They hugged anyway, Lillian keeping the embrace close a fraction of a second longer than usual, and Selena had to return the wry smile as she turned back. ‘I don’t work for the press any more. You locked up my boss, remember?’ 

‘ _That_ was _Potter_ ,’ said Lillian, wagging a finger. ‘And now it’s Halvard.’ 

‘And it’s not like you don’t outrank them both.’ 

‘Maybe, once the next wave of reforms is in, I can tell them to stop being scared little children, terrified of a man who’s not under their control.’ 

‘And to think _you_ were the one so angry at Gabriel Doyle two years ago.’ 

Lillian’s expression sank. ‘I didn’t use my actual power in response. I just… shouted, a lot. I’ve had to learn how to deal with these sorts of problems since then.’ 

Selena fiddled with her sleeve. ‘Yeah,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry that my being in danger beyond the reach of the formal authorities has become a regular sort of thing.’ 

‘Don’t you apologise. Especially not for _this_ latest. Really, I should have had a security team assigned to you -’ 

‘And then how was I supposed to do my job?’ Selena’s expression creased. ‘Let’s face it, Mum. We do our thing, and just take the consequences as they come.’ 

‘Except these were the consequences for _my_ choices, and I couldn’t even put them _right_ …’ 

Selena was not accustomed to seeing uncertainty from her mother. All her life, Lillian Rourke had been a storm of control and determination, roaring into any situation like a tornado of organisation and leaving everything Handled in her wake. But now she could hear the apprehension in Lillian’s voice, and that was perhaps more scary than an army of Inferi. She grabbed her mother’s arm. ‘Mum, it’s okay.’ 

‘The Council of Thorns abducted you to get to me and I had to order our best men to tackle a _completely_ different problem. _How_ is that okay?’ 

‘Gee,’ said Selena, ‘it’s like they coordinated their plans in order to fuck you over to the maximum degree, and it worked because they’re competent, deranged professionals. _I_ don’t blame you.’ Her mother’s gaze dropped, but this was as much as Selena actually wanted to talk about her abduction with her mother, because otherwise Lillian was going to start worming her way into truths, and that wouldn’t do. ‘It was a good speech.’ 

‘It was a routine speech. But I need to remind people of our successes. Lethe is controlled in Europe and North America; east Asia’s getting in-hand, the Council _are_ losing men -’ 

‘And for every cell you wipe out, two more pop back up,’ said Selena with a grimace. 

‘Which is why we need better cohesion.’ Lillian gave her an apologetic look. ‘Which means I’m going to be leaving the country soon.’ 

‘A world-tour of domination?’ 

Lillian smiled a little. ‘The IMC needs to be centralised if we’re going to get anything done. The Convocation needs a permanent meeting place, task forces need permanent offices. So it’s Switzerland for us. If you need me, just Floo, but I’m sorry I won’t be around while all of _this_ is going on…’ 

‘It’s fine. I’ll see you all the time, right under the headlines.’ 

‘Your sadness at our parting is touching.’ She reached out to brush Selena’s hair back, an affectionate gesture recalling bygone eras when they’d had time for more than fly-by-visits and talks. ‘Are you alright?’ 

‘They didn’t hurt me, Mum.’ 

‘They still locked you up -’ 

‘And I’m doing a valiant job of not thinking about it.’ _Or how much getting me out cost._ ‘So I’ll thank you kindly to let me keep on repressing.’ 

‘I hear mothers should discourage that.’ 

‘You’re a busy mother.’ 

‘I’m a busy politician. My motherly duties are apparently very light.’ She sighed. ‘But my staff will hang me if I delay my afternoon meetings any more…’ 

They parted ways as quickly and dismissively as ever, never ones for overt displays of affection. Her father had left the family when she was rather young, and the consequent closeness between mother and daughter was unspoken, unassuming. They didn’t need to hug and profess their love at every turn. It just _was_ , in the same way a sunrise was. Anything melodramatic was simply Not Done. 

And so Selena returned home, because there she could focus on more pleasant prospects than the week behind her. A nice cup of tea. Playing some music in her room. Returning to some sense of normalcy. Or, that was what she told herself could happen when she let herself in the front door, and was greeted by the unmistakable sounds of a conversation coming to a sharp halt. 

Frowning, Selena pushed open the living room door to see Miranda Travers sat across the coffee table with Rose Weasley, and realised she’d blundered into the world’s worst Ex-Girlfriends Convention. ‘Oh, crap on a stick.’ 

No wonder Abena was nowhere in sight. She’d be hiding upstairs, away from it all. 

‘Have you been at work?’ Miranda got to her feet at once, eyes wide. ‘I can’t believe they’ve got you back on the job so soon -’ 

‘The office is shut,’ said Selena, numb. ‘I was just off to see Mum and shall I get you two some tea and get out of your -’ 

‘Rose came to see you,’ says Miranda, far too firm. ‘ _I_ _’ll_ get out of the way.’ 

Miranda had never been very adept at Disapparition magic, but she vanished from the living room within a blink anyway, leaving the pale, subdued Rose in an armchair, hands cupped around the mug. She had tea already. Of _course_ tea had already been made. Tea was the very first step in trying to handle a disastrous conversation. 

Like, _our mutual ex has come back from the dead, how about that._   
  
‘You’re probably the last person who wants to hear about this,’ Rose told her mug. ‘But, help.’ 

It took all of Selena’s effort to not crumple, and with a sigh she went to Rose’s side, knelt by the chair. ‘What _are_ you talking about?’ 

‘ _It_ _’s so hard_ ,’ Rose said in a mocking, twisted voice that tumbled over itself. ‘ _The man I loved died and it broke me but now, horror of horrors, he_ _’s_ back.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘How do I complain to _you_ about that tale of woe.’ 

Selena drew a shuddering breath. ‘Then why are you here?’ 

Rose kept staring at her mug like she was trying to divine from the tea leaves. ‘Because you’re the only person who could even begin to understand.’ 

‘I think “begin” is about right. Rose - oh, no, you don’t think I’m bitter because Scorpius is back and - and Methuselah _isn_ _’t_?’ Her voice caught, and she grasped Rose’s wrist. 

Rose looked up. ‘Aren’t you?’ 

‘I am far, far too busy going, “what the hell?” to think anything that complicated,’ Selena confessed. ‘Have you two talked?’ 

Colour streamed into Rose’s cheeks, red enough to match her hair, and her voice came out in a tumble. ‘I - sort of - we - I went to his flat and…’ 

_Merlin_ _’s beard_. Selena’s eyes widened, but she knew better than to leap to conclusions. ‘You…’ 

‘We spoke for less than _five minutes_ and that was all it took for me to almost kiss him.’ 

Selena’s heart rate slowed. ‘How much _almost_?’ 

‘Almost - there was leaning and then I realised what the _hell_ was going on and pulled away, and - and that’s crazy!’ 

‘Yes,’ said Selena, tilting her head this way and that, ‘but when I thought I had a second chance with Methuselah, we had metaphysical sex in a metaphysical world, _so_ … crazier things have happened.’ 

Rose’s nose wrinkled again. ‘But _Matt_.’ 

Selena sucked on her teeth. ‘How is he?’ 

‘He -’ She hesitated, then she pushed herself to her feet, stalking about the cramped living room like a caged animal. ‘I hardly know. He takes his potions, he speaks to the Healers, he’s getting a new hand and will figure out how it works, and we don’t - I don’t know how to ask him about the hand, and I don’t know how on _Earth_ I can talk to him about _this_. But he’s not an _idiot_ , of course it’s going to be a _thing_ that Scorpius is back…’ 

‘I understand it’s more than a little awkward, but you kind of _have_ to talk about it. It’s not going away.’ 

Rose gave her a sidelong look. ‘You think I should tell Matt that I almost kissed Scorpius?’ 

Selena winced. ‘I… _almost_ isn’t…’ 

‘So, we’re off to a good start, then.’ Rose’s lips thinned, and she glared at the dreary autumn greyness beyond the window. ‘Let’s talk about _some_ of how I feel, but not all of it. Let’s talk about some of how _he_ feels, but not all of it. Because I know he’s got to have more to say about his hand, about his father, about _you_ , but he doesn’t talk, and I don’t _ask_!’ 

It seemed judicious to pretend the ‘about you’ part hadn’t happened. Selena kept her gaze studied. ‘There are fifty gazillion problems here,’ she decided to say in the end, ‘and there’s no _one_ solution to any of them, but I _do_ know that nothing dooms a couple like not communicating.’ 

_Like you two haven_ _’t ever since you got together._   
  
‘It’s not just about my relationship…’ 

‘But you and Scorpius impacts you and Matt, impacts everything.’ 

Rose’s shoulders slumped, and the look she gave Selena was so forlorn it could have inspired a thousand depressing paintings. ‘He’s _alive_ , Selena. I didn’t want to believe it at first, I didn’t dare, but it’s _him_ , it’s still him, and he’s back. And part of me wonders what’s happened to him these past few months, and another part of me doesn’t care, and another wants me to run away and never look back…’ 

‘I don’t think,’ Selena said delicately, ‘that ignoring a problem ever made it go away.’ 

‘My issue isn’t that I’m trying to ignore these problems. My issue is that I don’t know which problem to even _think_ about first.’ 

‘But you _are_ thinking. Keep thinking.’ Selena let out a slow breath. ‘I’ll give you the one bit of advice which hasn’t _yet_ backfired in anyone’s face: figure out what makes you happy, and do that. And be honest about it.’ 

Rose gave her an uncomfortably astute look. ‘Are you following that bit of advice? Being open about what happened?’ 

‘Nothing happened -’ 

‘Let’s start, at least, with being honest with _each_ other.’ 

Selena met her gaze, and thought of Matt, high on painkillers, regretting his choices. _No. Let_ _’s not be honest with each other_. ‘Fine,’ she said instead. ‘Being locked up by the Council wasn’t fun. Matt losing his hand to save me isn’t thrilling. And, to top it all off, I could have _ended_ this war if I could cast the Killing Curse properly. But we have nowhere near the time to go through all of this. I’m getting there.’ 

Rose watched her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Let me help you. We’ll go for drinks, we’ll have dinner, we’ll - bloody hell, Selena, who else can we turn to as allies in all of this madness?’ 

On the one hand, it felt two-faced to sign up for this alliance, considering what Selena knew she _wasn_ _’t_ saying. On the other, Rose’s repression didn’t make her a fool. And on some third, mysterious, additional appendage… 

Selena sighed. ‘You know what’s stupid? What’s really, really stupid?’ Rose raised an eyebrow at the question. ‘I’m freaking out. You’re freaking out more. And I feel more like myself, and you lookmore like yourself, than either of us have in _years_.’ 

Rose snorted softly, and Selena felt vindicated. Wry, self-deprecating humour had not been on the cards in a while. ‘Yeah, great,’ she muttered. ‘Chaos comes again, but it brought colour back into the world with it.’

* * 

Albus was used to the Auror Offices in the Canary Wharf MLE Headquarters being a bustle of activity. What he didn’t expect was a desperate, pained bustle at the back of the bullpen, everyone steering clear of his father’s office, because that way they could pretend they couldn’t hear the shouting. 

The only person who hadn’t moved out of the blast radius was his uncle, sat at his desk just outside Harry’s door, sipping his tea with a long-suffering expression. When Albus approached and recognised the second voice inside as Hermione’s, he understood. 

‘They’ve been at it about ten minutes, now,’ sighed Ron in greeting. 

‘What’s the problem?’ 

‘Sit down, you’ll get an earful.’ Ron gestured to the opposite chair. ‘In summary, they’re trying to pull Thane out of our custody.’ 

‘How come?’ 

‘There’s the rub. Which is a weird saying. I don’t know where it’s from. What are we rubbing?’ Ron shrugged. ‘Centralisation of the IMC marches on. International law enforcers want Thane somewhere they can all poke him until the information comes out.’ 

‘ _But he_ _’s a British citizen_!’ came Harry’s whip-crack from the other side of the door. 

Ron nodded as if his assent could weigh in on the argument. ‘A good point.’ 

Albus squinted at the office. Hermione spoke more softly, but this close in a row this agitated, he could hear her rebuttal. ‘ _But most of his crimes have been out of the country. Germany and France are pretty furious for everything he pulled during the Chalice of Emrys chase. The Greeks_ _want to try him for Kythos. Amongst others._ ’ 

‘ _Then the Greeks can get in line. He_ _’s_ my _prisoner, Hermione. I don_ _’t see why you’re bowing to what Rourke wants._ ’ 

‘ _This morning you were cheering on Lillian Rourke for being so firm on the American success!_ ’ 

‘ _And_ you _were criticising her for wanting to move everything to Niemandhorn!_ ’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘This sounds like it could go on a while.’ 

‘It could.’ Ron sipped his tea. ‘And on. And on.’ 

‘That must be fun for you.’ 

‘I do my job. I keep out of it. We know how to handle this. I mean, sure, they’ve not had wedges between them like this in _years_ , but…’ He frowned. ‘They don’t draw me into it. I just wish I could help.’ 

‘What _do_ you think?’ 

‘Ouch, dangerous question.’ Ron shook his head and gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’m the sidekick, remember? Hermione’s trying to play watchdog for everyone. Don’t run too fast, don’t wield too much power, don’t upset too many people to win. It’s hard as hell to argue with her, because I don’t disagree with the idea, just in practice you’ve got to crack some skulls sometimes, you know?’ 

Albus sighed. ‘I know.’ 

‘On the other hand, Harry _really_ wants to crack every skull. I think he -’ Ron cut himself off with a grimace. 

‘You think he what?’ 

Ron groaned. ‘I don’t blame you, Al. But he’s been rattled. Almost losing you in Kythos, Jones dying, Scorpius dying, you taking off like you did. There are times I worry he’d burn the world if it’d keep the family safe.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not like the Second War. He didn’t have as much to lose then. He’s not used to being bloody terrified for someone else every single moment.’ 

Albus opened his mouth, not sure what he’d say - and was saved by Hermione bursting out of the office. ‘I won’t be home until after eight, dear,’ she reeled off to Ron as she stalked past, agitated but somehow affectionate. 

‘Ha, I won’t be back until nine, you get to cook,’ was Ron’s retort, and he got a flash of a smile over his wife’s shoulder before she left the bullpen. 

Harry stood in the door to his office, arms folded across his chest. ‘I’m glad you can keep your spirits up.’ 

‘It’s that,’ said Ron, spinning around on his chair, ‘or I’m in the domestic from hell.’ 

Harry harrumphed, and looked at Albus. ‘What - what can I do for you?’ 

Al knew he’d stopped himself from saying, ‘ _what do you want_?’ Frustration was knuckled down, partly for Ron’s sake. Now was not the time to get defensive at his father, and he was nervous enough already. ‘I don’t know if this is appropriate, but I’d like to see a prisoner.’ 

Harry turned his eyes skyward. ‘Doyle and Grey aren’t being released any -’ 

‘It’s not them I want to see.’ Albus hesitated, but when his father’s face slumped, realised he’d been figured out. ‘Yeah. I don’t know. I just feel I should.’ 

‘I don’t know about _should_.’ Harry grimaced. ‘I’ll take you down there.’ 

‘Uh,’ said Ron, ‘You need to see Trevithick about the Indonesia task force -’ 

‘Oh, for -’ Harry tossed his hands in the air. ‘Can you run him down?’ 

Despite the gesture, Al was relieved that it was Ron, not his father, who took him from the office bullpen and down into Canary Wharf’s jail block. The situation was going to be awkward enough without Harry either trying to be supportive _or_ questioning his choices. 

‘She’s been cooperative,’ said Ron, voice taut as they descended into the gloomy stone passages. ‘But there were a lot of arrest warrants that predate the Council. France are keen to get their hands on her.’ 

‘Thane’s being possibly transferred, but not her?’ 

‘Thane comes with political baggage. She doesn’t. You know, it’s your dad who’s been digging his heels on keeping her in Britain…’ 

‘If he’s doing that to please me, he needn’t bother.’ Albus hesitated as his voice grated more than he intended. ‘I mean - I don’t know what should be done.’ 

‘Damned if I know,’ said Ron, and stopped as they reached a corridor junction of the cell block. ‘She’s down there, third on the right.’ He gave an uncertain smile. ‘Good luck.’ 

Al just nodded as he advanced into the gloom. The cells in Canary Wharf were quiet; most successes against the Council had happened outside of Britain, lately. That was for the best right now, as the last thing he wanted was an audience. An audience might have expectations. And as Albus stopped in front of Eva Saida’s cell, he knew he had absolutely no idea what was going to happen. She was lying on the bench, reading, but she’d looked up at the footsteps and froze at the sight of him. 

‘Good book?’ It was all he could think of saying. 

‘I’m not much of a reader. But there’s little else to do.’ She put it down and sat up. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you here.’ 

‘I didn’t think I’d come here.’ His brow knitted. ‘Do you know what’s going to happen to you?’ 

Her lips twisted. ‘For now, they’re holding me as a confessed Thornweaver, so that means they can lock me up without charging me or giving me a trial or anything like that for as long as they fancy. You’d have a better idea.’ 

‘Dad’s stopped you from being extradited to France.’ 

She nodded. ‘I’d say that’s good of him. But maybe he thinks they’d be soft.’ 

‘No, it’s…’ Albus looked away. ‘If he wanted to bring hell on your head, he’d have done that by now.’ 

‘I’m getting that impression.’ Eva gave a rattling sigh. ‘How’s Scorpius? I mean, it _is_ him?’ 

‘It is. He’s…’ He bit his lip. ‘Free. Figuring things out. I guess we all are.’ He put his hands to the bars, and found himself gripping them so hard his knuckles went white. ‘Why did you surrender?’ 

‘I didn’t think you’d ask that.’ 

His throat tightened. ‘I’m asking.’ 

Eva’s jaw clenched, and she studied the floor for long moments before she answered. ‘I wasn’t surprised Baz cut me off. He put on a show in Moscow, but he wasn’t pleased I’d not told him about my history with you all. If I’d left Saint Annard on my own, I was going to have to run. And keep running.’ 

‘And this is better? You’ve got _how_ many counts of murder under your belt?’ 

‘I know.’ She put her hands on her knees, shoulders taut. ‘But that’s justice, right? For all I did?’ 

‘I thought you said you didn’t fancy justice. I thought you said you weren’t sorry enough to want to be locked up for the rest of your life.’ He wasn’t sure if he was confused or bitter. 

Eva gave a rueful, empty laugh. ‘There is nothing, _nothing_ going on here that I _want_.’ 

‘But you could call this the worst of all evils.’ Albus clenched his jaw. ‘Bloody hell, if France extradite you, they _still_ have Dementors, you _will_ get the Kiss -’ 

‘And if I ran,’ she said, voice dropping, tensing, ‘then at best I would become another wand for hire, another instrument of someone’s power over others. Another dealer of pain and death. People with my past don’t find gainful employment, they find dark corners of the world and then they make them darker.’ 

‘Except you’re a survivor. So _why_ surrender?’ 

She hesitated. ‘Why do you want to know?’ 

‘Because -’ Frustration caught in his throat, and he slammed the bars with a rattle. ‘I spent the last two years _loathing_ the very _idea_ of you,’ he growled, and the old hatred he’d nursed split his voice. ‘But if it was _your_ fault Scorpius was dead, then it was _my_ fault for trusting you. Only he’s not dead. And you didn’t betray us like I thought you did.’ 

Eva looked away, hair falling across the side of her face, blocking her expression from view. When she spoke, she was apprehensive, awkward. ‘I meant to leave that night in Venice before anything… happened.’ 

He flinched at the memory, his mind in the habit of sheering away from the slightest thought of her - his lips on hers, every inch of her under his touch… ‘I don’t want to talk about -’ 

‘I was weak,’ she blurted, like if she didn’t spill the words in a rush, they would never come. ‘I knew when I left, Lisa Delacroix - the _fake_ Lisa Delacroix - would stop existing, and this is who I’d be again. Eva Saida.’ She stood, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, hair shimmering in the gloom, shoulders hunched and taut, vulnerable like he’d never seen. ‘Eva Saida’s a monster. Eva Saida’s a killer. Eva Saida deserves to be shipped off to France, given the Kiss, and thrown into the deepest, darkest hole I can imagine. The fake Lisa Delacroix was like her, except the fake Lisa Delacroix _changed_. She turned from her past and her bad choices and tried to be someone better, and you - you felt something for her, and when you looked at me, it was like you believed I could _be_ her. That it wasn’t too late.’ 

She padded to the bars of the cell, and all he could do was watch. Instinct told him to shy back, pull away like a dog who’d been kicked, but his limbs wouldn’t react, kept him pinned as she approached. ‘We were wrong,’ she whispered. ‘It was too late. I couldn’t be Lisa Delacroix. The girl you wanted was a myth, a lie. I knew that all along. But then I was in Ager Sanguinis and I didn’t want to be Eva Saida, either. So I betrayed them, so I did what I could for you, so I left. So I went to work for Baz, fought the Council, because…’ Her voice trailed off, and her eyes were on him, drinking in every inch of his face like she was trying to commit the sight to memory. ‘I was an idiot. I thought I _could_ stop being Eva Saida. But once Baz knew, he wanted nothing more to do with me. Once you knew I wasn’t Lisa Delacroix, already reformed, but Eva Saida, lying to you…’ 

He opened his mouth, but no words came out, and she looked away. 

‘You and I both spent the last two years running from our lives. And you and I both realised we can’t escape them. You belong here, with your friends, with your family. And it doesn’t matter if I _pretend_ to be someone else, I am what I am. I’m Eva Saida, and I am a murderer.’ She hesitated, then her hand came up to the bars, inches from his, and he couldn’t pull away even though parts of him screamed the command. 

‘I didn’t do this _for_ you,’ she said at last, voice throaty, grating. ‘I didn’t try to change so maybe you would look at me like you used to. But it happened _because_ of you. Because you put the idea in my head that maybe I could _be_ something else. And I wanted so badly, so _badly_ for it to be true that I lied to myself all this time, told myself it was possible. 

‘I surrendered because it’s that or become something worse. I surrendered because I’m deluding myself if I pretend I have other, real options. And I surrendered because that slimmer than _slim_ chance you could _ever_ forgive me for lying to you would vanish into nothing if I’d run. And that is the one thing I think I _can_ be forgiven for.’ 

From what he knew about her and believed, open confessions like that, risky, exposing, did not come naturally. But her eyes blazed as they met his, and as her hand ran up the bars for her fingertips to brush against his knuckles, he understood she could only be so daring because she had nothing to lose. 

‘I’ve hated my life, Albus,’ Eva whispered. ‘I’ve been lied to, I’ve lived lies, I’ve been used and I’ve used. I suffered, and I decided the way to cope was to make others suffer. I’ve tried to run from all of that, and discovered _that_ was a lie, too.’ Her breath caught. ‘My whole life, you have been the only thing that’s real.’ 

The old pain howled in his gut, and now it couldn’t be ignored, now he wasn’t too trapped to be deaf to it, and he jerked back with a gasp, skin crackling when their hands broke apart. ‘I don’t…’ His voice grated, and he swallowed hard to command it again. ‘I don’t know what you want from me.’ 

She recoiled with a flinch, then visibly steeled herself, and couldn’t quite look him in the eye when she murmured, ‘I’m condemned whatever happens. All I can want is whatever you can give.’ 

_Pain. Torment. Hate. That_ _’s all she gave you, that’s all you can_ give - 

But he’d loved her once, or it had been the glimpse of love, and that joined the vortex howling in his gut to rise to his throat, choke him, spin him around, and in the end the only thing Albus could listen to was the carnage of confusion. He didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her, didn’t speak, just turned on his heel and stormed away from the cell, away from the darkness, away from _her_ , and didn’t dare look back in case he broke.


	16. The Shadow of Any Lie

‘You should only keep it on for an hour or so at a time,’ said Dwyer, looking at the prosthetic hand like it might explode if Matt did the wrong thing. ‘Do those exercises when you first put it on, do them before you take it off, don’t put it back on within six hours.’ 

Matt stared at the lump of grey metal that had been attached to his stump. While it had the shape of a hand, at that moment he could no sooner move it than fly to the moon. ‘Those exercises,’ he pointed out, ‘require me to have some manipulation of the living steel.’ 

‘It will come!’ Dwyer assured him. ‘The magic will start to plug into the impulses from your brain. That’s partly why you should wear it for an hour or so; let those connections form, and also, it’s most likely to work for the first time when you’re not thinking about it. You’ll act on automatic, try to move the hand that’s not there, only you’ll move the prosthetic.’ 

‘Isn’t that going to hurt?’ 

‘Excruciatingly!’ Dwyer faltered. ‘Um. You know, I could go sort out that discharge paperwork…’ 

‘That’ll take a while, I imagine.’ 

‘A couple of hours, Mister Doyle. But then you can go home; you have your appointment sorted for tomorrow -’ 

‘And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,’ Matt sighed. ‘Please be about it.’ 

Dwyer left the stale hospital room that had been Matt’s world these past few days, but even though he was eager to leave, the idea of returning to his flat gave him nothing but a chill in his gut. He’d tried to convince himself it would be home. That Rose would be there, that he could go right back to - 

To pretending everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. It hadn’t _ever_ been fine. 

‘I’ve got bad news, Matt!’ His eyes flashed open to see John Colton sticking his head around the door. ‘You’ll never play the violin again.’ 

At least, Matt thought, he was still capable of laughter. ‘You’re a funny guy, John. A funny, funny guy.’ 

‘I know, I’m a beacon of hope for the world.’ But John’s brow furrowed as he waltzed in. ‘How are you, old bean?’ 

‘Oh, you know. An absolute pacifist. ‘armless.’ 

John narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re a very bad man.’ 

‘I’m a _little_ high.’ 

‘When do they let you out?’ 

‘This afternoon. I’ll be home.’ 

‘In the tender care of the lovely Rosemary?’ 

Their eyes met, and Matt couldn’t ignore the guarded glint that usually he disregarded when he and John discussed his relationship. Maybe the drugs were chipping away at his delusions. ‘She’s been - she’s been good.’ 

‘I’m glad,’ said John, unconvinced but playing along. ‘You don’t - oh, hell, Matt, I’m really sorry this has happened.’ 

He slumped against the pillows. ‘I made my choices.’ 

‘Lose the hand, save the girl?’ John jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Speaking of “the girl”, she’s outside. Selena, I mean. Not Rose.’ 

Matt sat up like a shot. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ 

‘She said she’d let us talk first. That she’d wait. I thought maybe you’d want to bear your heart and soul to your best - fine, fine.’ John tossed his hands in the air, his frustration exaggerated. ‘I know how it is. I’m only chopped liver compared to the parade of beautiful women here to weep at your bedside.’ 

‘That’s not what I meant -’ 

‘No, no. Obviously I’m not welcome if I’m not going to beat my chest and fall on my knees beside you. Though I could go find a petticoat and sob on your bedsheets -’ 

Matt’s lips twisted. ‘I hate you.’ 

John laughed, and turned for the door. ‘Feel better. Drop me a Floo when you’re out and about; we’ll spend time together. You know, go to concerts which deserve raucous applause. Play golf. Juggle.’ 

It felt good to grin, but he still yelled, ‘Get out,’ at John’s departing form, and John was laughing when he left. 

So his smile was intact when the door swung open again, and in stepped the apprehensive form of Selena Rourke. ‘I thought this was a hospital room, not a comedy club,’ she said, voice low, cautious, but wry. 

His gaze softened. ‘Hey, I didn’t expect you to stop by…’ 

‘I figured it’s the least I could do. How are you?’ 

Matt lifted his right arm and waved with the utterly still prosthetic. ‘I can’t go near magnets.’ But her expression creased, and he remembered this wasn’t John, there to make him feel better by making light of this. Nor was it Rose, here to fuss as if he was made of glass that her hammering guilt would shatter. ‘Sorry. It’s kind of a reflex.’ 

Selena stared at the hand for a moment, then went to sit on the stool by his bed. ‘If you need to take it off, don’t worry about being awkward in front of me. Do what you need to do.’ 

She was concerned without undertones of apprehension, and it went a way to soothe the twist through his gut. ‘I need to wear it for about another hour. It’s stupid and rotten, but…’ He let out a deep breath. ‘It is what it is.’ 

Her gaze dropped. ‘It is what it is because of _me_.’ 

‘I’m blaming Raskoph.’ 

‘You wouldn’t have fought him if you hadn’t -’ 

‘Hadn’t what? Tried to rescue you? Maybe I should have left you alone. Avoided you. Left you in prison.’ He couldn’t keep the deprecating tone from his voice, and she looked at him, surprised. ‘I made my choice, and I’d do it all over again. And it could have been a lot worse. Are _you_ alright?’ 

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Matt; they didn’t do anything to me -’ 

‘I _do_ worry, and just because they didn’t injure you doesn’t mean you have to be bouncing after the Council of Thorns _locked you up_.’ 

He was studying her face, knew her masks well enough by now that he could almost see the gears shift when she looked back at his prosthetic. ‘Does it hurt?’ 

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve figured out how you do that.’ 

‘Do what?’ 

‘Evade. You say something which isn’t really an answer, and then you make people talk about themselves. People _love_ talking about themselves. So you ask, and all of a sudden we’re talking about my hand.’ 

‘There’s not much to say about me.’ 

‘Even if you don’t want to talk about the Council,’ Matt said carefully, ‘You and I haven’t spokensince we rowed at your doorstep, and before that we didn’t _talk_ about things. I think there’s a whole lot to say.’ 

Her eyes narrowed, and this didn’t look like a mask. ‘This isn’t my first visit here.’ 

Matt frowned, thinking back to that haze of white sheets and fussing faces and drifting through swirling lights of white and gold. Eventually there was a snippet of something solid, the thought of her hand on his. _I thought that was a dream_. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘I was… pretty high.’ 

Selena snorted. ‘Yeah, you were.’ 

‘See.’ He pointed his fake hand at her. ‘You’re doing it again.’ 

‘When did you get so bloody-minded about me?’ 

Matt’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the flicker of apprehension about her gaze. He drew a deep breath. ‘If I answered that,’ he said quietly, ‘then I’d be letting you evade some more.’ 

‘What if I don’t want to _talk_ about how I feel? About what happened?’ 

‘Then say so.’ He ducked his head in acknowledgement. ‘If you really don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll drop it. But I’m here if you want to talk. I’m here if you just want to sit with someone and say _nothing_. Day or night.’ 

Her gaze dropped, blonde hair falling across her face, a physical veil to fall over the crumpling mask. ‘I came to check up on you,’ she said quietly. ‘Not to talk about me.’ 

Instinct made him want to reach for her hand, but she was sat on his right side and that was awkward even if she’d been near his good hand. In the end, all he did was shift his bad arm, prompting a throb of pain, and he winced. ‘I’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want you feeling guilty about this. Raskoph did it.’ 

There was a long moment where she stared at his prosthetic. Then she straightened and brushed her hair back, and she was Selena again, poised again. ‘How’s Rose?’ 

He flinched. ‘Do you really want to ask?’ 

‘Do you really want to tell me?’ 

Bitterness rose in his throat. ‘How’s your work?’ 

‘Not happening,’ said Selena, not missing a beat to the change of topic. ‘On account of the paper being shut down.’ 

‘But you had a good story,’ he said. ‘The corporations? The smuggling?’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena, ‘you mean the fact that I was accidentally right on top of the conspiracy that allowed the Council of Thorns to ship Lethe worldwide, and didn’t even know it?’ 

‘You don’t feel _guilty_ about that -’ 

She shrugged. ‘Only sometimes. Only the normal amount. In so far as there’s a “normal” amount. I’m irritated I didn’t find more, but I don’t know what I could have done. After all, everything was formally by the books. The companies were all bought out by the same conglomerate. It was all done legally; with Ministry corporate oversight, even. Which it turns out was amongst the information my boss and your father apparently _stole_ from the Ministry of Magic.’ 

Matt grimaced. ‘I had heard something about that.’ 

‘I think it’s the Ministry being rather pissy because all of this happened directly under their noses - the corporate buy-outs which led to the smuggling of Lethe. Your father’s thieving. And now it’s the hot-button topic.’ 

‘Isn’t that closing the gate after the horse has bolted? To care about it now?’ 

‘It is,’ said Selena, but she gave him a quizzical look. ‘They do have reason to fuss, though. Didn’t you hear?’ 

‘Hear what?’ 

‘The conglomerate that bought out all of those companies on behalf of the Council, oversaw the smuggling of Lethe internationally. It was just one man, operating through proxies: Draco Malfoy.’

* * 

The hammering at Scorpius’ door was like rolling thunder drilling into his brain, so by the time he’d yanked the hotel door open, all he could do was yell, ‘ _What_?’ 

Any guilt he felt at yelling at Selena died with the flash in her eyes. Of course she could take it better than others. ‘Being a resurrected hero is no reason to abandon your _manners_ , Scorpius.’ 

‘I - sorry.’ He stepped back to let her in, running a self-conscious hand through his hair. ‘Though you could have knocked like a normal person.’ 

‘Didn’t you get the memo? You came back and nothing’s normal. Not me, not Albus, _certainly_ not Rose and Matthias.’ 

Scorpius chose to ignore that, and the piercing look she gave him. ‘I thought you were doing well for yourself.’ 

‘Apart from being the daughter of a world leader and recently abducted by the Council of Thorns?’ 

‘Yeah.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Apart from that.’ 

Selena tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘Well, if you put it like that, I’m _okay_ , I guess.’ Their eyes met, and her expression softened. ‘I hear that _you_ made Prometheus Thane come help rescue me.’ 

‘I’m aware of the irony.’ He kicked at the floor. ‘I didn’t know what the others would do. I didn’t know Albus was back, and I didn’t know how deep Matt’s ties to his dad’s work went, but I _did_ know the IMC was up to its eyeballs in too many crises to be able to go after you easily. And I know we were too late to stop the abduction.’ 

‘Scorpius Malfoy, back from the dead for _me_.’ She was drawling her indifferent drawl, but her gaze flickered to a spot above his head. ‘But not for anyone else. Let me guess, you’d hoped to rescue me without me ever learning of your existence?’ 

He winced. ‘More or less.’ 

‘So then you could go back to fighting the Council with Thane. Letting us _all_ believe you’re dead. Your mother, Albus, Rose. What the _hell_ were you thinking?’ 

He’d known he was due a yelling match, but he’d expected it from Albus or Rose. On reflection, he should have anticipated Selena was the person who’d be close enough to be angry, but detached enough to be _capable_ of fury. ‘What was I supposed to do; waltz back and slip into my old life? That’s going _so_ well right now, isn’t it!’ 

‘So instead you decided to, what?’ She glared. ‘Assume some mantle of duty you never gave a damn about before? Make a deal with the devil, the man who got Tim killed -’ 

‘I know!’ 

‘Who got _Methuselah_ killed - and don’t say “the Council did it”, he could have given us the solution to thatritual when he gave us the Resurrection Stone! You let _him_ be your ally and let _us_ all stay ignorant?’ 

Scorpius took a step back, then drew a deep breath. It would be too easy to go to pieces in the face of her anger. ‘I had the opportunity,’ he said slowly, ‘to fight the Council. If I came back, what would I do? Join the Enforcers? Or be where I am right now; stuck in a hotel room, without a next step?’ 

‘Yes,’ snapped Selena. ‘Much better to murder your way through the Council of Thorns’ command hierarchy. Or, not better, but easier?’ 

‘Easier -’ 

‘You were _afraid_ , you bloody idiot! Coming back was too scary for you, so you let them keep suffering, keep grieving -’ 

‘I’d been dead for _two years_! I couldn’t fix that. I _could_ try to make the world a _better place_ -’ 

‘How about you actually made the most of having a second chance? A second chance _nobody_ else has had!’ 

Her voice quavered and now it hit him. Scorpius’ shoulders slumped. ‘Selena, I…’ 

‘No - don’t you _dare_ try and wriggle out of this because I’m upset! If Methuselah were alive, even after all this time, there is nothing, _nothing_ I wouldn’t suffer to know that, and it wasn’t _fair_ for you to take the chance away from Rose and Albus!’ She had to thin her lips to push back the emotion he could see shining in her eyes. ‘And it wasn’t fair for you to throw away _your_ chance.’ 

Scorpius stepped forward, lifting his hands and dropping his voice. ‘Selena, you should know I… I don’t remember.’ 

She tensed. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘You were going to ask if I saw him. Methuselah.’ Scorpius winced. ‘I remember falling into the Veil. I remember waking up in a Council-owned facility somewhere in Tibet. That’s it; nothing in between. And even after that, everything’s pretty hazy for the first few weeks.’ He looked at his feet. ‘This is going to sound like a dumb thing to say, but I’m sorry I’m back and not him.’ 

Selena took a moment to reply, drawing a deep breath. ‘You’re right, that _is_ a dumb thing to say. There’s nothing to even say _to_ that.’ 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘Oh, you little - you were dead. Now you’re alive. Forget how that’s impossible; do you have _any_ idea what that _means_?’ Her gaze hardened, not unkind but determined. ‘Don’t you dare waste that, Scorpius Malfoy. Don’t you _dare_ keep away from people because you think you know what’s better. Don’t you _dare_ think you’re expendable because you died once, or think it would be _better_ if you’d stayed dead. You’re alive. _Live_. Or I really _will_ hate you for being here when others aren’t.’ 

Her words hammered into his heart and gut like hailstones in a storm, but the churning vortex of the unspoken was enough to make him nauseous, not inspired. Scorpius schooled his expression into a controlled, if guilty mask. ‘What if I don’t want to hurt people more than I already have?’ 

‘People get hurt all the time. It’s the time in between that matters.’ Selena’s eyes narrowed. ‘They need you. Rose won’t say it, and Albus is pretending he never broke, but they _both_ broke, and unlike me, they stayed broken. Don’t you _dare_ stay away because you think it’s for the best.’ 

Secrets rose with bile in his throat, and the mask collapsed. ‘What if it _is_ for the best? What if?’ He faltered - then broke. ‘Selena, I’m not -’ 

That was, of course, when there was another knock on the door, and Scorpius slammed his eyes shut. Shadows returned to their corners, to squat and hiss from afar. ‘That’ll be Albus,’ he croaked. ‘We were going to do lunch.’ 

Selena looked between him and the door, then rolled her eyes. ‘Merlin knows I’m not getting in the way of your furtive reunion rituals.’ 

Albus looked wary as he stepped in, like he could smell whatever fizz the air still held of tensions and truths, but Selena swanned over to him like a tea party had just ended, laying a hand on his arm. ‘And it’s lovely to have _you_ back, too, Al,’ she said, and kissed him on the cheek. 

Albus grinned at that, and the twist in Scorpius’ gut managed to contort tighter and somehow ease in other places. It kept his mouth shut until Selena had left, but then it was just him and his best friend stood in the hotel suite, and the fizzing in the air hadn’t stopped. 

‘Something’s up,’ said Al. 

‘About a gazillion somethings,’ said Scorpius, and the obfuscation felt like a lump in his heart. He grimaced and looked away, running a hand through his hair. ‘Al…’ 

‘What is it?’ 

‘It’s time we got answers. I need to look for my father, and… I think the first place to look is the Manor.’   
  
Albus straightened. ‘Do you want me with you?’ 

Guilt and relief burst and mingled like a kaleidoscope inside his chest. ‘To the end.’ 

Scorpius handled the Apparition, because even if he’d barely been to Malfoy Manor since getting his license, he still knew the place best. Soon enough Albus stared through the wrought-iron gates, up the long drive through the overgrown garden to the shuttered windows and imposing heights of the house and said, awestruck, ‘I’ve never been here.’ 

‘What?’ Scorpius looked at him, gobsmacked. 

‘No, seriously. Remember how we _never_ hung out in the holidays, except for Diagon Alley trips?’ 

‘We’ve wasted so much time, haven’t we?’ Scorpius sighed. 

Albus elbowed him. ‘Then let’s stop wasting.’ 

The gates opened at the swish of Scorpius’ wand, and something caught in his throat at the creak of metal, so familiar. ‘I thought he’d have taken me off the wards.’ 

‘I guess if he was funding the job to get you back…’ Albus grimaced as they crunched up the drive. ‘Maybe he kept hope?’ 

‘I mean before. When I left home. After Phlegethon.’ Scorpius sighed, studying the upstairs windows, the imposing masonry of Malfoy Manor silhouetted against the bright but grey sky. ‘Dad, you messed up bastard.’ 

‘You can ask him when you find him.’ 

‘I’m not looking for him so I can ask him questions and put my mind at ease.’ Scorpius shook his head. ‘I’m looking for him because he’s the final piece of the puzzle with the Council of Thorns. There must be _so_ much he knows about their operations, their plans. The Malfoy family has _helped_ this new age of chaos happen, both him _and_ me, and I have to set this right.’ 

‘You didn’t _choose_ to be brought back with Lethe,’ Albus said roughly. ‘You can’t feel guilty for -’ 

‘I can use the knowledge I have, the resources I have, to bring in the one of us who _did_ have a choice, though.’ They reached the double doors, and Scorpius considered knocking before he just tried the handle and bellowed, ‘ _Rigby_!’ 

There was a _crack_ from the other side of the door, right before the Malfoy family House Elf swung it open, eyes wide and dark. ‘Master Scorpius is -’ 

‘Alive, yes - nobody _told_ you?’ Scorpius’ expression twisted. 

Rigby shook his head. ‘Master Draco left abruptly! Then Aurors came, and they looked all over the house - and Rigby couldn’t stop them, Master Scorpius, they had papers -’ 

‘It’s okay! It’s okay. Bloody hell.’ Scorpius raised his hands to calm down the frenetic House Elf, and he and Albus stepped inside. ‘You did right. You did what you were supposed to. It’s been just you in the Manor, all this week?’ 

‘Weeks, sir. Mostly. Master Draco spends much time abroad. Not much time here. Rigby sees to the Manor, sir! And now Master Scorpius is back, Rigby can make the bedroom -’ 

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Scorpius blew his fringe out of his face, pondering. ‘Okay. Rigby, help Al and I look around today. But when you’re done, I want you to close this place down properly, put things in storage and all that, and then you’re taking a holiday.’ 

Rigby’s big dark eyes filled with tears, and the House Elf tackled his ankles - then let out a wail of despair. ‘A _holiday_? What has Rigby done wrong -’ 

‘Nothing wrong! Rigby!’ Scorpius tried to shake off the House Elf’s agonised grip without kicking him into a wall. ‘A paid holiday, Rigby! And I’m raising your pay in compliance with House Elf union guidelines.’ 

‘ _Union_ -’ Rigby reeled back like Scorpius had just uttered the most vile of curses. ‘No, no, Rigby hates the unions, they undermine the rightful place of the masters…’ 

Scorpius looked at Albus as Rigby sobbed into his hands. ‘In case you were wondering,’ he sighed, ‘this is a great example of reasons to hate my father. Do you know where Harley’s up to?’ 

Albus shrugged, visibly torn between sympathy at Rigby’s distress, and faint, guilty amusement at how melodramatic the little House Elf was. ‘I’ve been away.’ 

‘Right. Of course.’ Scorpius hunkered down so his face and Rigby’s were level, and drew a deep breath. ‘Rigby. Rigby, look at me.’ 

At the direct order, of course Rigby looked up, still tearful. ‘Rigby is a good elf -’ 

‘You are. You always have been. And…’ Scorpius sighed, and reached up for the scarf around his neck. It was one of his old ones from school, returned to him by Rose in the box. He pushed that thought to one side as he looped it around Rigby’s neck. ‘You’ve been a free elf all along, I know. But you _really_ are, now. You will _always_ have a job with the Malfoy family so long as I’m around, and now it’s going to be a job with a fair wage, you hear me? And you get that holiday. But I’d like it if you’d see about speaking to Hermione Granger -’ 

Rigby gave another, distraught sound at the name, but Scorpius saw how his hands curled around the woollen scarf anyway. 

‘…and tell her I asked you to speak to her, and that I’d like her to help you. She’ll help you, you know?’ 

Rigby was still playing with the scarf when he gave a slow, sombre nod. Scorpius knew there was no magic in giving this House Elf clothes; by law, House Elves in Britain were still free, but freedom required choice, and his father had made sure that the family kept things as close to how they’d once been as possible, paying elves who didn’t know better an absolute pittance. There was a strength in the gesture, or so he hoped. 

Scorpius smiled at him. ‘Thanks. Now, if you could help us, we’d appreciate it. Is there anywhere in the house the Aurors didn’t go, didn’t find?’ Rigby shook his head silently, and he fought a grimace. ‘Okay. You said Dad hadn’t been here the last few months. Do you know where he was?’ 

Another shake of the head, and it was Albus who spoke next, voice gentle. ‘Do you know of any jobs he was doing? People he spoke to, work he was doing, things he was… interested in?’ 

Rigby’s forehead creased. ‘Only one thing, sirs,’ he croaked. ‘Rigby doesn’t know if it’s useful.’ 

‘Anything you can think of, Rigby.’ 

‘Well… Master Draco _did_ dig out family records and portraits from storage. Said it was urgent. Important. Only a month ago.’ 

Scorpius exchanged a glance with Albus, then nodded Rigby onward. ‘Let’s see them, then.’ 

‘Oh, _no_ , sirs, the room they’re in is so dusty; if Master Scorpius and guest would make themselves comfortable in the parlour, Rigby will bring down everything…’ And without waiting, Rigby turned on the spot and disappeared with a _crack_. 

Albus exhaled in the sudden silence as they tromped towards the dusty parlour. ‘You know what’s messed up? Aunt Hermione really can help him stand on his own two feet, introduce people to show him the whole new way for House Elves. But he’s only _going_ because you’ve asked him to, which in his mind is as good as an order.’ 

‘I’m ordering him to be free. I’m aware of the irony.’ Scorpius sighed and glanced over. ‘Did you talk to your dad, by the way?’ 

‘Only a little.’ Albus shifted his feet. ‘I was busy.’ 

‘Busy?’ 

‘I spoke to -’ He caught himself, then frowned at the shuttered window. ‘I went to see Eva Saida.’ 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. ‘Damned judicious full-naming there, mate.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You call her Eva, that seems intimate. You call her Saida, that seems forcibly cold.’ But Albus flinched at that, and Scorpius winced. ‘Sorry. Are you okay?’ 

‘She - I don’t know. They’ve locked her up, they’re going to keep her locked up, and if she gets tried and sentenced then she’ll be dead, or Kissed, or in prison _forever_. And I have _no_ idea how I feel about that.’ 

The wince deepened. ‘Yeah, that’s a tough one. She _was_ a spy.’ 

‘And even if she _didn_ _’t_ sell us out to Ager Sanguinis, she still _lied and manipulated_ us for weeks on end.’ Albus’ expression tightened into a mask of conflicted pain. ‘Not to mention all of the shit she did to people before she signed on with us. With the Council, with Thane, with others…’ He caught Scorpius’ expression, and lifted a hand. ‘Don’t you dare, I know what you’re thinking.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You might have been doing shit these past eight months, but you were doing it to _fight the Council_. I’m not even judging things Eva - Saida - did since Ager Sanguinis, I’m talking about everything she did _before_ that. That wasn’t fighting bad guys, that wasn’t for a cause.’ 

‘No,’ Scorpius conceded awkwardly. ‘It was just when she was a teen-aged girl overawed and used by Prometheus Thane, who’d never known anything better.’ 

Albus flinched. ‘That doesn’t make the people she killed any less dead.’ 

‘No,’ Scorpius said again, and looked away. ‘I guess it doesn’t.’ There was another silence, but he could feel the guilt rolling off Albus in waves. He drew a deep breath. ‘She used to make you smile.’ 

Another flinch. ‘Don’t -’ 

‘I mean, I can make you laugh, and grin, but she made you - I never saw you smile like you did with her. This soft, stupid little smile, even if you did it when she’d just blasted a Thornweaver across the room without breaking a sweat…’ 

‘That was _then_ -’ 

‘And this is now, and in the _now_ she’s been trying to fight Thornweavers and you’re _still_ torn up about her -’ 

‘What are you saying?’ Albus rounded on him, voice raising enough to make Scorpius take a step back, even if he knew it wasn’t about him. ‘That I forget she hurt me, I forget she killed people, and I just, what, break her out of jail and sweep her off her feet?’ 

Scorpius gritted his teeth. ‘I’m saying just what I’ve had drilled into _me_ today; this is our life, here we are, make it matter, make it count, be _happy_. Maybe you can’t forgive her and I _get_ that. But not _letting_ yourself forgive her because you think it’s not proper is, is…’ His voice trailed off, and the two of them stared at each other while he clutched at thin air for words and points. 

_Why is it so much easier to tell other people how they_ _’re living_ their _lives wrong?_   
  
_Crack!_ Rigby appeared in the middle of the parlour atop a large wooden crate. ‘Rigby has found the records!’ he declared with a beam, oblivious to the tension. 

Scorpius looked away from Albus’ hurt, conflicted gaze, and rubbed his temples. ‘Great. Thank you, Rigby, you can - that’ll be all for now.’ 

Rigby bowed, and Scorpius didn’t have the heart to tell him not to. ‘Rigby will start to close down the Manor, Master Scorpius,’ he said, and disappeared with another crack. 

At least that had changed the subject. Scorpius’ lips thinned as he approached the crate and reached to haul it open. ‘Guess we see what Dad was interested in.’ 

There was clearly quite a lot in the crate, because the portrait was almost at the top. But it was big enough to obscure the rest of the contents, and blue-grey eyes so much like his own peered up at him through oil and canvas. 

‘At _last_ ,’ declared a voice which didn’t sound that dissimilar to Scorpius’, but was a good deal more cultured and cultivated in its accent. ‘You have _no_ idea how stuffy it is in here.’ 

Scorpius blinked at the portrait of a blond man with good cheekbones in fine robes. ‘…if you’re not a Malfoy, I’ll eat my hat, but I have no idea who you are…’ 

The Malfoy ancestor harrumphed. ‘Of course you don’t. Neither did the last one. Let’s always overlook old Cass, hm? Forget all the work he did, toss him to one side as a rake and a fool and assume there was nothing more to him? I know it’s been, what, eighty years almost to the _month_ , but I wouldn’t have thought I’d be _that_ easily tossed aside…’ 

‘My father spoke with you?’ 

‘Older fellow, bad hairline, pointier face than you, attitude sour as brimstone? He was most upset I couldn’t help him. I don’t know what he thought I was going to say. I _am_ just a portrait.’ 

Albus popped his head over Scorpius’ shoulder, peering down at the painted figure. ‘What did you say your name was, again? Cass?’ 

The portrait straightened to what passed for its full height, looking rather indignant. ‘ _Friends_ can call me “Cass”. _You_ can call me Cassian Helios Malfoy -’ 

And something very familiar but _very_ painful exploded in Scorpius’ skull.

* * 

‘This is stupid.’ Matt glared at the stuffed bear on his flat’s coffee table. ‘I feel like a child.’ 

Rose, stood over him, shifted her weight. ‘We need something you won’t break -’ 

‘Because picking things up is too _hard_.’ He extended his arm, the metal prosthetic shimmering in the afternoon light. He’d only been back home for a couple of hours, and already he wanted to break something. ‘So let’s not give the man anything _delicate_ …’ 

‘You need to practice this.’ 

‘I _know_.’ He gritted his teeth, concentrated hard, and managed to force the hand to make a fist. It was strange, having to think about moving. Every other muscle flexed and moved as nature intended, but making this magical prosthetic react as it should took a strange mixture of focusing, and trying to make instinct kick in. Moving individual fingers, subtle manipulations, were beyond him yet, but for the moment, he could grab stuff. And then - 

The bear dropped. ‘Son of a bitch -’ 

‘It’s okay!’ Rose rushed to pick up the toy. ‘It’s fine, Matt, it’s fine, you can take your -’ 

He got to his feet quickly enough to rock the table, and she stepped back, lips thinning. ‘I know it’s fine - but it’s _not_ fine, this is stupid and embarrassing and I don’t need you _watching_ me while I fail to _pick things up_.’ 

She straightened, jaw tightening. Her eyes were less guarded these days, he thought, and he could see the flash of hurt across her face. _Good_ , he thought without guilt. _I didn_ _’t think I_ could _hurt you. I didn_ _’t think you cared enough_. ‘I’m trying to help.’ 

‘You can help by not hovering over me like I’m going to fall apart if I walk across the room. My hand’s gone, not my legs. I can still pick up a _toy_ with my _left_ hand.’ Defiantly, he snatched up the stuffed bear, and then he realised _this_ was an achievement for his wasted body. ‘Fuck’s sake, I’m not an _invalid_!’ 

He hurled the bear at the wall, though there was no satisfaction to be drawn from throwing a stuffed toy around. There was no clatter, it just hit the floor and lay there, betrayed and abandoned, and so he had to give Rose a reproachful look. The glint in her eye didn’t help, not with the unspoken answer it held. 

_You_ are _an invalid_. 

‘ _Fine_ ,’ he spat. ‘But I don’t need your pity.’ 

‘I don’t _pity_ you -’ 

‘Yes! Yes, you do, that’s _exactly_ how you’re looking at me.’ 

Rose drew a slow breath, and he was gratified to hear the edge of frustration. ‘I’m trying to help,’ she repeated. 

‘I didn’t ask you to! And I certainly didn’t ask you to by supervising my exercises, like I might _fall over_ if I did them wrong!’ 

She opened her mouth - then shut it, sighed, and that old mask descended, dragging away all emotion. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to be coddling -’ 

‘No -’ His throat tightened, but anger reigned more than disapproval. ‘Don’t shut down like that, don’t give up - I’m _furious_ , I’m hurt, I’m _unreasonable_ , and you’re just backing down, and - and _keep yelling_ , damn it!’ 

Rose stepped back with a startled look. ‘What?’ 

‘When did we last argue? Yell?’ 

‘You’re saying that like it’s a _good_ thing if we have an argument while you’re hurt, recovering -’ 

‘I am _not made of glass_!’ he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. The gesture was genuine, but felt clunky with the metal prosthetic. ‘Nor are you. But we’ve acted like that for _years_ , haven’t we, like if we raised our voices or got upset or frustrated with each other, then the _sky_ might fall in…’ 

Her eyes widened - then she closed the distance, reached out for his good left hand. ‘Matt, this isn’t about us. You don’t need to pick a fight or stand your ground or - or do something _stupid_ to make a connection. You _have_ my attention. My focus. I want to _help_ you, _support_ you…’ 

His shoulders slumped, stump throbbing. ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘This is just… frustrating.’ 

She tried a smile, and it was awkward and hesitant in a way she hadn’t looked in years, because her gaze had stopped being that honest unless it was honest anguish. He couldn’t feel comforted by that. He was not the one who had summoned her sincerity. ‘And I’m here for you. Every step, you know?’ 

Matt swallowed. ‘Have you been to see him?’ He didn’t really want to know the answer. 

Rose’s gaze dropped, a response and admission of _something_ all at once, even if that something was a mere thought. ‘I gave him his stuff back. It’s his, I guess. Not mine.’ 

‘Did you talk?’ 

‘A bit. What’s there to _say_?’ 

_Thump thump thump thump -_   
  
‘Is someone trying to _beat_ the door off its hinges?’ Matt lunged to his feet at the knocking, good hand reaching for his wand, but Rose waved him down. 

‘I’ll get it,’ she said, but the hammering didn’t stop until she pulled the door open. 

Albus stood with one fist raised to knock, other arm slung around the dazed and barely-standing form of Scorpius Malfoy. ‘We need your help.’ 


	17. In Mine Own Realm

Albus didn’t wait for a response before he dragged Scorpius in, gaze sweeping around the flat in a calm, authoritative manner. ‘Nice place. Nice sofa,’ he decided, and dumped Scorpius on it. 

‘What the hell is going on?’ Matt hadn’t put down his wand as he stalked over. ‘What’s happened?’ 

‘This should look familiar to you,’ Albus said to Rose like Matt wasn’t there. ‘Because it’s a lot like what happened after you partially undid that rough Obliviation on him three years ago. I think something’s triggered buried or erased memories and it’s having an effect.’ 

‘The effect being he falls over?’ Matt looked critically at Scorpius, who was conscious but pale, stirring only weakly. 

‘M’not fallin’ over,’ he slurred. ‘Al carried me - you don’t need to -’ 

‘We could fuss around with potions again,’ said Albus, talking over him. ‘Or I thought I’d take him to an accomplished Legilimens who might be able to deal with this in a more sophisticated manner.’ 

‘A Legilimens - Al, I’m _massively_ out of practice!’ Rose said. ‘Why aren’t you taking him to Saint Mungo’s, or _Mum_ , or…’ 

‘Because he’s worried what a Legilimens is going to dig out of his memories,’ said Matt, expression flat. ‘Scorpius has been allowed to walk free on trust and politics, and a Legilimens is going to get every opportunity to look into the last eight months, the last two _years_. And if there’s something in there he should be locked up for, a Legilimens in _authority_ might make that happen.’ 

Albus’ expression didn’t change, his eyes still on Rose. ‘I came to you because I trust you.’ 

‘So, what I just said,’ Matt muttered. 

Al’s gaze snapped over. ‘I’m not asking anyone to make promises or guarantees -’ 

‘But you don’t have to,’ Matt retorted, ‘do you? Not with her, not when it comes to _him_.’ 

‘I think that’s her choice.’ 

Matt eyeballed the ceiling. ‘Choice,’ he mused, ‘isn’t the word I’d use.’ 

Rose’s jaw tightened. ‘Will both of you shut up? He’s here, he’s clearly not alright, so I’m going to take a look at him.’ 

Scorpius’ eyelids fluttered open as she knelt by the sofa, and he lifted a hand to clumsily grab his wrist. ‘No,’ he croaked. ‘Not you.’ 

She looked up to Al. ‘I’m not doing this without his permission.’ 

Albus stepped over and caught Scorpius’ eye, stony-faced. ‘Mate, you need _help_ , you flipped out when you saw that portrait, when you heard that name…’ 

‘What portrait?’ said Rose. ‘What name? What was the trigger?’ 

‘We found a portrait of an ancestor of his that Draco Malfoy had been looking into, someone called Cassian Malfoy…’ 

That seemed to send a fresh wave of pain through Scorpius, and he inhaled sharply through his nostrils, clenched his jaw. ‘Bugger it,’ he groaned after a moment. ‘You just need to - if _I_ _’m_ blocking you out of certain things, you stay out, alright?’ 

Rose’s lips thinned. ‘If I can tell what’s you blocking me out and what’s something _else_ blocking, I will respect that. But if you want me to help you…’ 

His hand at her wrist let go, and Scorpius slumped back on the sofa, eyes shutting. ‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘Let’s get this done.’

* * 

The grey wasteland was as dreary and bland as ever before. No wind howled, no dust stirred, and on the horizon was nothing more than the hint of jagged peaks that promised to be impassable. 

Rose didn’t care. Nothing was impassable to her here. She looked across the chessboard at Scorpius, sat in a tall-backed leather armchair that matched hers, an eyebrow quirked. It was like a strange dream turned to reality; surreal as her subconscious, and yet nowhere near as haunting. 

When he’d been in her dreams, they didn’t include boardgames. 

‘I thought we agreed we weren’t going to try chess again.’ Scorpius no longer looked pained, drawn, and he wore a flash of a smile as he leaned forwards. ‘It didn’t go well last time.’ 

‘It went very well,’ said Rose, remembering a lazy afternoon after the Phlegethon Crisis where very little of the game had been played. ‘For me. There are two ways this goes. You surrender, and I see everything. Or you resist, and I beat you, and I still see everything.’ 

‘You say that like there’s no other option,’ Scorpius said, and moved a pawn. ‘This was Albus’ idea.’ 

Her jaw tightened. ‘I’m not going to force myself in. I’m trying to help you. Why are you keeping me out?’ 

‘Maybe there are things you shouldn’t see.’ 

‘Things I shouldn’t see?’ She moved a piece. ‘Or things you don’t _want_ me to see?’ 

‘Aren’t those one and the same?’ 

She looked up to meet those blue-grey eyes, breath catching in her throat. Except it wasn’t, because she had no breath here, because this wasn’t real. All of this was a construct of their combined imaginations, a framework around which she could pierce his defences and get to the memories underneath. 

Which meant she wasn’t _really_ testing her chess skills against his. 

‘You’ve been trained in Occlumency,’ she said, looking at the board. 

‘Yes.’ He sounded apologetic. ‘I’m not entirely trying to keep you out. There’s instinct at work, too. Occlumency wouldn’t be much good if you could only defend when you were thinking about it.’ 

‘ _And_ you’re hiding stuff you don’t want me to see.’ 

Scorpius inclined his head. ‘That too.’ 

‘How am I supposed to _help_ you if you’re fighting me?’ She scowled. ‘I didn’t ask for this. Trust me, delving into your mind is _not_ my idea of a good time.’ 

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ Scorpius stared at the board, then moved a pawn again - a place where she could easily take it. ‘I’m only _partly_ trying to be difficult.’ 

‘I suppose if you weren’t trying to be difficult,’ she said as she took the pawn, ‘you wouldn’t be _you_.’ 

_A dark room. Cold stone walls. Somewhere gloomy. Grey skies. Rain thudding down on the roof. A kitchen?_   
  
_‘We couldn’t have anticipated_ this _,_ _’ Prometheus Thane says, arms folded across his chest, face etched in rock as harsh as their surroundings._   
  
_‘Really?’ says Scorpius, voice dripping with tension. ‘Because we knew they’ve got Lethe, we knew they’d use it. We should have seen this coming.’_   
  
_‘I didn’t think they’d make abducting Selena Rourke a secret. I thought they’d_ want _the world to know -_ _’_   
  
_‘Well, they didn’t! So now_ we’ve _got to do something._ _’ Scorpius rounds on Thane, bristling, anger and frustration and guilt and helplessness flowing through his veins. ‘Nobody else is going to.’_   
  
_Thane looks at him, impassive as ever._ _‘We’re in this business to stop the Council of Thorns. Not rescue -’_   
  
_‘The daughter of the Chairman of the IMC?’_   
  
_‘Your_ friend _. This is personal. You left personal behind._ _’_   
  
_Scorpius steps back, chest heaving._ _‘Yeah. But the world’s bloody changing, isn’t it.’_   
  
_‘I don’t know what we can do to -’_   
  
_‘You’re under the impression,’ Scorpius snarls, ‘that I’m_ asking _for this operation. I_ _’m telling you. We can’t stop Lethe worldwide, but it’s for the good of so many people that Selena Rourke’s free. At the least, we can find out what Raskoph wants from her, and maybe finding her finds us Raskoph. We’re doing this.’_   
  
_Thane arches an eyebrow._ _‘When did you get the impression you could_ tell _me to do anything, Malfoy?_ _’_   
  
_‘I’m not an idiot. You broke me out for a reason. You let me help you for a reason. Maybe you reckon you can manipulate my father, maybe there’s something with the Chalice, but I’m not some tag-along. So I’m calling in_ whatever _this is. We rescue Selena Rourke, or I promise you, Thane, I will not help you with a bloody thing again._ _’_   
  
And the grey rushed back in with a gust of air, and no more was she behind Scorpius’ eyes. 

He dropped his gaze. ‘I was supposed to stay away. I would have done, if it weren’t for Selena. But we had resources, contacts; it’s one thing to stay away and fight the Council, it’s another thing to not help when I can.’ Only awkwardly did he look up. ‘Like in the Hogsmeade alleyway.’ 

Rose’s chest tightened. ‘I didn’t thank you for that.’ 

‘Since when,’ said Scorpius in a low, sad voice, ‘did you have to thank me for that kind of thing?’ 

‘I don’t know. You _did_ manage to stay away, after all,’ she said, not meeting his gaze. 

When he answered, his voice was low, gravelly. ‘Yeah. It wasn’t easy.’ 

She took another pawn. 

_Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Warmer, now, a soft breeze bringing the fumes of London amid the fumes of the trains._   
  
_He stands at the edge of a crowd, a body he can feel isn_ _’t his own, watching with eyes that aren’t his own. And he can see them, see them for the first time in the flesh, so close, though he’s invisible to them. A face they have no reason to linger on._   
  
_But he lingers. He lingers as he sees all that_ _’s there and all that isn’t; no Albus, and no eyes searching for him, nobody wondering if he’ll be there, if he’s running late. That Albus won’t board the Hogwarts Express is as accepted as the fact that Scorpius Malfoy won’t, either._   
  
_Scorpius Malfoy is watching, unseen. Watching as his old housemates wave goodbye like it_ _’s business as usual, trials and losses swept to one side by the average student. Watching as Oakes, Bellamy, Hollis descend the train and trundle to their families, the only Slytherin boys their age left._   
  
_Then there_ _’s Selena, stood next to Miranda and Abena, all as beautiful as ever, poised as ever, perfect as ever. He can see the distance in her eyes, hear the echo in her voice when she tosses her head back and laughs. It’s not the repression and denial of the weeks after Methuselah’s death. She’s healing around the hole still in her. And she keeps her distance from them._   
  
_Them, Matt bounding off the train with a wistful look in his eye, reaching up to help Rose clamber down even if she_ _’s perfectly capable of doing such by herself. But she takes his hand, and Scorpius can tell in that moment it’s not about misplaced chivalry as they don’t break contact, as their fingers entwine, and he tugs her back before she can head off to their families._   
  
_He can_ _’t hear them, can’t hear what Matt murmurs to her as he leans in, but the meaning of the kiss afterwards is clear. It’s a more private goodbye before they’re back to families and home life and that separation, and he does it as easy as breathing._   
  
_She kisses him back like she needs him_ to _breathe, and Scorpius turns away, away from the friends who don_ _’t need him, away from what’s blossomed in his absence, away from the rifts he’s left behind. He shoulders his way through the crowd, gets to the exit, and once back on the Muggle station he tromps for the street._   
  
_There_ _’s a car waiting for him, its enchantments invisible to the average man, and he sits in the passenger seat and slams the door. ‘Fine.’ He’s got a while before the Polyjuice wears off, but it’s relieving, for this minute, to_ not _be Scorpius Malfoy, because Scorpius Malfoy is burning inside._ _‘We’ll do it your way.’_   
  
_The look Prometheus Thane, sat in the driver_ _’s seat, gives him is actually sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry.’_   
  
_‘You were right. I knew you were right. Now I’ve seen it.’ Scorpius waves a hand. ‘Let the dead man fight for the living.’_   
  
_Thane keys the ignition._ _‘It’ll be easier.’_   
  
_‘Yeah.’ Scorpius slumps against the car window, watches as King’s Cross drags away from view._ Easier _, he thinks._ For them. 

Rose could taste his pain and bitterness, fresh in her mouth as on that day, and she had to pull away from the chessboard. ‘You watched us.’ 

Scorpius’ expression was pain etched into granite as he stared at the pieces. ‘I was always free to leave Thane. I think he wanted me on-side so he could use me against my father, if it became necessary. But he told me I had nothing to go back to. I didn’t disbelieve him, but I needed to see for myself.’ His gaze flickered up, colder and greyer in this land, so much more his father’s eyes. ‘I did.’ 

‘Matt and I - I didn’t _rush into_ -’ 

‘You don’t have to explain not draping yourself in mourning black _forever_ , Rose.’ He moved a pawn. ‘So which of my secrets do you try to pop open next?’ 

Her lips thinned, and she looked at the board. ‘This would be easier if you just let me in. I’m not here for what happened since you… woke up. I need to look deeper.’ 

‘If I don’t control this search, you get everything.’ His shoulders sagged, and he moved a bishop to a dangerous place. ‘This might help you understand.’ 

Heart in her throat, her knight took it. 

_Blood on his knuckles, blood on the desk, blood trickling from the corner of Holga_ _’s mouth. Pain throbs through his hand, but it has to be worse for Holga, whose head slumps forward. No more does he struggle at the bindings keeping him trapped to his desk chair._   
  
_‘You know, we’ve done this dance a lot, I’m getting_ really _tired of the steps._ _’ Scorpius hunkers down to be at eye level with the other man. ‘Can we have a new beat? Something a bit_ jazzier _?_ _’ He waggles his hands._   
  
_Holga spits out a tooth._ _‘Fuck you.’_   
  
_‘That’s not how you turn a fellow down when he asks for a dance.’ He slams his fist on Holga’s wrist, tethered to the armchair, and Holga hollers and swears as already-broken bones grind together. ‘Go on. Let it out. Your privacy wards will make sure we’re not interrupted.’_   
  
_‘You’re… you’re in trouble.’ Holga’s breathing comes ragged, hoarse once he gathers himself. His eyes slam shut. ‘Thane’s gone too far. I’m a Counsellor of the IMC -’_   
  
_‘You’re a_ comedian _, then!_ _’ Scorpius smiles with false delight. ‘As well as a bad dancer. But you’re_ not _a Counsellor of the IMC. Real Counsellors of the IMC don_ _’t give information to Thornweaver Erik Geiger. You’re a spy.’_   
  
_‘And what the fuck are_ you _, then?_ _’_   
  
_‘I’m the guy asking the questions.’ The smile fades, and Scorpius leans in. ‘I’m the guy who can ask what the IMC won’t, how the IMC won’t. They’ve got all these_ rules _, you see. The people I work for? We_ _’re a bit more… how shall I put it? Footloose and fancy-free.’_   
  
_Holga_ _’s gaze met his, dark, blazing. ‘You’re crazy.’_   
  
_‘That_ would _make this easier, wouldn_ _’t it.’ Scorpius turns away and reaches for the black duffel bag he’s brought in with him. He doesn’t need many tools for this job, but the wand’s out of the question, so work has become crude. ‘For both of us. But it doesn’t matter. You’re going to tell me_ exactly _what you told Geiger._ _’_   
  
_He makes a farce of dangling his hand over the bag, letting Holga cook over what he_ _’ll bring out, and his sense of theatrics - the whimsy that has been his mask for so many problems in his life and is now helping him keep his nerve, not throw up, and do the job - says it’s time to be anti-climactic. He can ratchet it up later._   
  
_So he only pulls out a_ small _knife._   
  
The nausea in Rose’s gut was definitely not just borrowed, and she fell from the chair this time, on her hands and knees, gulping huge lung-fulls of false, imaginary air. It only did so much to settle the churning in her stomach, heart, mind. ‘What the _hell_ -’ 

‘Victor Holga, Danish Counsellor to the IMC.’ Scorpius’ voice was bland. ‘He passed on information about a relief mission going to the Azores after the strike in April. The Council was going to hit the team, wipe them out, compound the loss with despair and fear - make it clear people couldn’t even be helped. But we didn’t know that at first. We’d been watching Holga a while, we knew he’d leaked something to Geiger, and we knew the Thornweavers were rallying a team for _something_ , but we didn’t know what. So we had to ask Holga.’ 

‘You beat him, you _cut_ him…’ 

‘IMC security can be _amazing_ sometimes.’ When she looked up at Scorpius, his gaze was distant, detached. ‘We could get me in, but we couldn’t extract me _with_ Holga. And the security wards around his office would give us privacy, but they’d go off the moment spells started to fly, _especially_ Legilimency. So I did it by hand.’ 

‘By “it”, you mean _torture_.’ Rose clutched the chair to get back to her feet. ‘I don’t need to see the rest, I can _feel_ the rest -’ 

‘What else was I supposed to do?’ Scorpius shoved himself upright, expression twisting. ‘Even if I _had_ a wand, I’m no Legilimens. Should I have asked him nicely? And if he said, “no”, let the _twenty_ members of that relief team get _slaughtered_?’ 

‘The IMC -’ 

‘Did not suspect him. Even if we tipped them off, we didn’t have enough of a smoking gun to make them act quickly enough. There would have been fuss and _procedure_ and then it would have been too late!’ His shoulders slumped. ‘It’s not their fault. They’re supposed to play by the rules, but the Council exploits that. It’s why they _recruited_ Holga, he was in a good position and above reproach. But someone had to do something.’ 

‘Someone who didn’t care about rules.’ She couldn’t look right at him, just his shoulder. ‘Someone like Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘You didn’t care about rules when you went after Selena. You didn’t care about rules when we _all_ went after the Chalice.’ 

‘I didn’t _torture_ and then _murder_ a man - yes, I read about Victor Holga being found dead in his office!’ 

Scorpius’ lips thinned. ‘What was I supposed to do after that? Hope he didn’t mention to the Council that their information was compromised, so they made a different attack a different day?’ 

‘You weren’t supposed to be _as bad_ as them! We’re supposed to be the good guys, we’re supposed to have a moral high ground -’ 

‘And so people like me, people like Thane, could do what the IMC wouldn’t, shouldn’t. What I did was efficient. I don’t pretend it was right. But someone needed to do these things, and who better than the dead man?’ He sat down, expression again like granite. ‘I told you there were things you shouldn’t see.’ 

‘And what was that, a _taster_?’ Rose sank onto her chair across from him, jaw tight. ‘Scaring me off now? It gets worse?’ 

His gaze dropped. ‘Yeah. It gets worse.’ 

‘ _None_ of this is getting us closer to Cassian Malfoy, though. So you can cooperate, or -’ 

‘Like hell.’ Scorpius moved a knight. ‘Let’s play.’ 

_He doesn_ _’t know how long he’s been in this cell. It’s been his life and death and day and night, ever since he woke up._   
  
_Woke up. It_ _’s easier to think of it like that, like he’s been sleeping. Not brought back from the dead by Council lunatics._   
  
_They_ _’ve ripped Lethe out of him and cured him and he’s still here, this research centre, this prison, to be poked and prodded, because he’s done what nobody’s ever done before - come back from the dead after all hope was lost. Brought back to give them a weapon. Brought back to languish in their ‘care.’_   
  
_When the door swings open and in steps Thane, Scorpius is on his feet in a heartbeat, fists clenching. He knows it_ _’s useless, but defiance is all he’s got left. ‘_ You _-_ _’_   
  
_Thane lifts his hands, expression flat._ _‘Be quiet. I’m not here to hurt you.’_   
  
_‘I’m not answering questions. I’m not cooperating. I’m not weak as a kitten any more -’_   
  
_‘If I wanted to_ make _you do something, I could. Don_ _’t deceive yourself, boy, you are the prisoner of the Council of Thorns, and nobody,_ nobody _is coming for you._ _’ Thane’s jaw is tight. ‘So you can clench your fists at me all you like and pretend you’re making a difference, pretend going down fighting makes you any less dead, or you can sit down, shut up, and_ listen _._ _’_   
  
_‘Why the hell should I listen to anything you’ve got to say?’_   
  
_‘I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve_ resurrected _you?_ _’_   
  
_‘So you can get the fucking virus out of me -’_   
  
_‘There is so, so much more at play than Lethe. Not that Raskoph can see that. But Raskoph is mad and Raskoph is a fool and Raskoph really_ does _want you dead now he_ _’s got Lethe, so you can listen to me, or I can go and you can deal with_ him _._ _’_   
  
_Being dead_ _’s been like the deepest sleep with the most intense dreams, except he can’t remember more than a whisper of them. Or perhaps this is the dream, this half-life he’s had dangled before him, which he knows they can take away at any moment and it’ll be all for nothing._   
  
_He lowers his fists._ _‘Talk.’_   
  
_‘I am not so cruel as to give a man a second chance at life and then put him down like a dog just because I don’t_ need _him any more._ _’ Thane speaks in a low, grating, urgent voice as he steps over. ‘And speaking of dogs, I am not Raskoph’s dog.’_   
  
_‘You did_ this _for him, this impossible, insane,_ brilliant _magic._ _’ Scorpius jerks a thumb at his chest. ‘My breathing again is your trick for your master. Does he give you treats?’_   
  
_‘This wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the Chalice of Emrys. Your death was a perfect storm; this feat_ cannot _be repeated. It didn_ _’t happen just because I’m brilliant, it happened because it could. If I hadn’t done it, someone else would have, someone for Raskoph, and that someone would obey the kill order on you he just gave.’_   
  
_Scorpius narrows his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest like it wants to make the most of this second chance._ _‘Are you here to convince me you’re not so bad a guy before you put me down? That it makes you feel_ really _bad? Because, I gotta tell you, it makes_ me _feel bad, too._ _’_   
  
_‘I’ve done my job. I’ve brought you back. I’ve given them Lethe, and the Chalice of Emrys. They don’t need you any more.’ Thane meets his gaze. ‘And I don’t them any more. So.’ He stalks to the cell door and yanks it open. ‘You can leave with me and live, or stay with the Council and die.’_   
  
_‘I don’t understand.’_   
  
_‘I’m leaving the Council. Raskoph is insane, you know this, and the world has got_ worse _since you_ _’ve been out of it. I got into this job for a lot of reasons, but those have all dried up. I stuck it out to finish Project Osiris, to get you back. My service to them is done. Now comes the war.’_   
  
_‘You’re_ turning _on the Council?_ _’_   
  
_‘That doesn’t wholly surprise you. I gave you the Resurrection Stone back in Hogwarts.’_   
  
_‘My_ father _ordered you to do that -_ _’_   
  
_‘I got into the Council for people like him. Moderates who would_ pay _me. Those moderates don_ _’t call the shots any more. The Council is of monsters. I’m not a good man, but I am a man, and men fight monsters. Come with me. Fight.’_   
  
_Scorpius_ _’s hands drop by his sides. ‘This is insane.’_   
  
_‘It is. And we can talk about the rest later. But, for now, all you have to do is trust that I’m going to get you out of this place alive. Or you can take your chances with the men in this place who_ are _loyal to Raskoph._ _’_   
  
_‘Me. Trust_ you _._ _’ He has to laugh. ‘Since when was that going to happen?’_   
  
_‘Since you don’t have a choice.’ Thane jerks a thumb at the door. ‘Right now, the guards are my men. We’ll leave this place together and figure out what comes next, next. Lethe’s come back, and it’s going to hurt people. If you don’t leave with me, you’ll just come back and die and nobody will know, and a_ lot _of people will suffer. In five minutes, the shift changes, and you_ _’re a dead man. Again.’_   
  
_Scorpius_ _’ jaw tightens. ‘I don’t have a choice, do I.’_   
  
_‘You will. When we’re gone from here, I promise you’ll have a choice. I intend to fight the Council. You can join me, you can go home, you can disappear. But that’s about living, and that comes later. For now, let’s focus on surviving.’ Thane extends a hand. ‘Come with me.’_   
  
It was less nauseating to return to the grey landscape this time, but Rose still closed her eyes as she took a deep, cleansing breath. ‘He really did break you out of Council hands.’ 

Scorpius nodded, slumped in his chair. ‘We were in Tibet. There was a location like Ager Sanguinis there - a place where the walls were weaker, but there wasn’t a Veil. The mountainside was covered in Dementors when we broke out. But we left the Council, and never came back.’ 

‘And you trusted him?’ 

‘I trusted him more than I trusted Raskoph. Raskoph clearly _would_ kill me; he’d got what he wanted out of my resurrection with Lethe back. So I didn’t have much of a choice.’ 

‘What about when you _did_?’ 

Scorpius looked across the chessboard at her. ‘We covered this. I believed he wanted to fight the Council. I couldn’t go back. This seemed like the best compromise.’ 

Rose’s hands threatened to shake, not from anxiety but anger. ‘And then what? When the war’s over, you were just going to waltz back -’ 

‘I figured that there was a damned good chance I’d get killed, actually,’ said Scorpius without inflection. ‘But Lethe is back in the world and killing people because I’m still breathing. Yes, I decided that the most important thing I could do was fight the Council.’ He leaned forwards, hands on the edge of the chessboard. ‘Were we going to play?’ 

She moved her bishop, he backed off his rook. ‘I’m only feeling the slimmest thread to Cassian Malfoy.’ 

‘I can’t help you with that. I don’t remember the guy.’ 

‘The thread goes back. Further and further.’ 

‘You’ve gone almost as far back as you can. I wasn’t in the Council facility for that long before Thane broke me out. I sure as hell didn’t study a Malfoy family tree inside a cell.’ 

‘Then maybe,’ said Rose, moving a knight, ‘this is from _before_.’ 

Scorpius’ jaw tightened. ‘I don’t - I don’t remember anything from when I was dead. I didn’t want to say this to Selena, but I’m not sure there _is_ anything.’ 

Rose gave a small sigh, and remembered her Uncle Fred. ‘There’s something.’ Then she frowned at the board. ‘What _are_ you doing with that rook?’ 

‘I told you,’ said Scorpius. ‘You don’t get to see everything.’ 

‘If I’m going to figure out things about Cassian Malfoy -’ 

‘This has nothing to do with him.’ 

‘How do you know?’ 

‘Because I know what it is. Or do you want to see the bad shit I’ve done again?’ Scorpius ground his teeth together. ‘Do you want it rubbed in your face that I’ve _changed_?’ 

Rose planted her knight in prime position to threaten his rook. ‘So have I.’ 

Scorpius stared at the board, stared at the rook in danger, and sighed. ‘I suppose we’ll see,’ he said, and his bishop took her knight. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

_‘You wanted - hey, what’s this?’_   
  
_Of course the view of the stars atop the Astronomy Tower is perfect. Of course Orion_ _’s shining bright tonight. Of course it’s worked out like this. But she turns away from the tapestry of loss and memories, looks to the stairway where Matt’s just appeared, bewildered._   
  
_‘I… I wanted to talk to you.’ Rose pads over, wringing her hands together. ‘I owe you some apologies. And explanations.’_   
  
_Matt_ _’s expression creases, shoulders tensing as she approaches. ‘I think I can figure out the explanations. And you_ never _need to apologise to me._ I _should apologise to you, I didn_ _’t mean for things to go so far.’_   
  
_‘You didn’t do anything.’_   
  
_‘I almost…’ Matt sighs and stomps past her, goes to the railing and grips it tight. ‘I’m your friend, forever, and I’m always here to help you. Whatever you need.’_   
  
_‘I know.’ She forces her feet to move, and every step thuds with a whispered word,_ traitor _._ _‘You’ve always been here when I needed you. You’ve always done what I needed.’ She reaches to put a hand to his arm when she joins him, feels him tense under her touch. ‘Like wait for me.’_   
  
_His grey eyes lock on her, but they_ _’re a darker grey than Scorpius’, a rock to his gemstones. ‘This isn’t about that,’ Matt whispers. ‘It can’t be.’_   
  
_He tugs his arm back, cautious but not cruel, and her fingertips ache at the absence, an ache that_ _’s been in her for so long she doesn’t know how it’s not drowned her yet. And in all this time, he’s the only thing that feels like fresh air; not salvation, not yet, but flotsam in a storm._   
  
_The storm_ _’s not over, but he’s been the only thing which makes her think she can survive it. ‘There’s only one thing you’ve done wrong, Matt.’_   
  
_‘Yes,’ says Matt, and he can’t look at her any more, just glare at the night-sky beyond the Astronomy Tower. ‘And it’s called almost kissing you last night.’_   
  
_‘You’re right.’ He tries to step back, but she grabs him by his jacket, locks him in place, and she closes the distance. ‘I didn’t want you to_ almost _kiss me._ _’_   
  
_And he_ _’s frozen when her lips touch his, a statue that only melts when her hands run across his shoulders, pull him closer, coax and lure him. Only when he’s no longer ice does a shudder run through him, a shiver of ache and pain and shock and want, and then he’s kissing her back, kissing her like he’s stood atop a crumbling wall; he wants to be careful, gentle, but he also wants to kiss her like she’s never been kissed, kiss her like he’s dreamt of doing a thousand times, kiss her like he can make one kiss as perfect as a kiss can be._   
  
_It_ _’s not perfect, because the wind still howls in her, the pain still stabs in her chest. But she’s not drowning any more._   
  
_The storm rages on, but he can be her anchor. The storm rages on, but the skies are clear, and Orion shines down._   
  
‘You -’ Rose rocked back in her chair as the grey barren wasteland came rushing back, and she clutched her chest. ‘You had _no right_ -’ 

‘You’re in _my_ head, turnabout is fair play,’ grunted Scorpius, ashen-faced. 

‘I’ve been _asked_ to do this! To _help_ you! But I can’t help you if you fight me, and I didn’t sign up so you could -’ 

‘So I could see you move on? Trust me, that was _not_ top of my wish list.’ 

Rose drew a slow, shaking breath. ‘Can we just get this done?’ 

‘Sure,’ said Scorpius. ‘Move a piece.’ 

Trying to take that rook was all she could do, the only tactical move that made any sense. But he still snapped the rook away, protected it like it was a queen, and she pursued, encircled, drove him back and back, until - 

‘Fine,’ said Scorpius. ‘There’s only one way this goes, isn’t there?’ And he moved his king so that her most sensible move wasn’t to pursue the rook, but to slide her knight into checkmate. 

Rose stared at the rook. ‘This makes no kinds of sense.’ 

‘It does,’ Scorpius said. ‘You just don’t get to see every little bit of me any more.’ And he toppled his king. 

_Rushing darkness, a swirling void of shadows and voices and feelings and thought, pain and laughter and joy and loss, and for so long he_ _’s been unaware of it, just lived_ in _it, been part of the vortex like a single drop is a part of the ocean. Only now he_ _’s taking form again, being dredged out from the abyss -_   
  
_\- no, it_ _’s not an abyss, it’s everything, it’s every feeling and every bliss, shared and combined and -_   
  
_\- he has a body again, and he_ _’s tumbling upwards, out of the ocean, back towards the light -_   
  
_‘Wait.’_   
  
_Voices call out to him, some he knows, some he doesn_ _’t, and he flails as he’s dragged out of the sea, grabs at hands that are half-formed of feeling._   
  
_‘Tell her -’_   
  
_‘Tell them -’_   
  
_‘I’m sorry -’_   
  
_‘Just one more -’_   
  
_But they belong here, the voices and the feeling, and so they_ _’re a million different thoughts and regrets that envy him his ascent. He knows there’s joy here, satisfied reflection and acceptance, but it’s sunken at the bottom of the ocean, settled, content._   
  
_His tumble back to light is stirring only the regrets and loss._   
  
_‘I can’t!’ he bellows into the void. ‘I can’t tell them, I’m sorry!’_   
  
_Then his hand hits something solid, and he knows the irony of this. The only solid things in here are incomplete, because they can_ _’t surrender to the ocean while they wait for a part of themselves._   
  
_‘You’re going back,’ says a voice that sounds familiar, though he’s never met them in his life or death. He knows those eyes, he knows that face; when he was alive, he saw them in the mirror every day. ‘You have to -’_   
  
_‘I can’t do the whims of some bloody Malfoy ghost!’ Scorpius yells into the abyss._   
  
_‘You’re going back to_ fight _,_ _’ urges the shadow. ‘The Council, Raskoph - part of me’s back there, trapped there. You have to stop him, you_ must _stop him -_ _’_   
  
_‘What the hell -’_   
  
_‘_ Find me _!_ _’ hollers the shadow. ‘It was his doing,_ finish _my work!_ _’_   
  
_‘Your work -’_   
  
_‘Raskoph, the war. Free me, let me finish my work,_ find me _!_ _’_   
  
Cassian _, murmurs the mouthless voices of the abyss._ Cassian Malfoy _, scion of his house, a soul trapped here because too much of him lingers in the light._   
  
_The light, the light dragging Scorpius up, up, out of the ocean, out of the vortex, and now he_ _’s not falling up, he’s climbing, clawing while the vortex howls beneath him, because nobody escapes. Even when it’s quiet, even when he’s not a regretful soul, even when he’s adrift in the ocean with his joys and his victories and his peace,_ nobody escapes. 

_Except Scorpius Malfoy._   
  
_‘_ Come back _,_ _’ calls a voice from above, and it’s a voice of warmth and trust and conviction, a voice of safety, and Scorpius scrabbles upwards because no son can ignore his mother’s call._   
  
_‘_ Stay _,_ _’ urge the masses below, the envious wanting to be in his place, the peaceful urging him to let go his burdens, the hateful wishing him pain._   
  
_‘_ We need you,’ _call the voices above, Albus and Rose and Lockett and others, even his father._   
  
‘You’ve earned your rest _,_ _’ chimes the chorus below, Methuselah and Tim and the rest._   
  
_His foothold in his climb slips, and Scorpius grits his teeth._ _‘Up,’ he whispers to himself, seeing the light glimmering ahead, hearing the voices. ‘Up, you’re going,_ move _…’_   
  
_For those calling. For their need, for their belief, to see them again, to laugh with them again, to love them again._   
  
_For Rose. Rose, Rose, and her name becomes a mantra with every dragging foothold as he clambers up from darkness to the light._   
  
_Bright light, blinding light, all-consuming, and then he_ _’s not in the vortex any more, he’s cold and he’s still and he’s somewhere white and sterile and_ quiet _, without a thousand clamouring voices or a thousand soothing feelings. Air rushes into his lungs and it feels like dust is kicked up with the breath, and Scorpius plants his hands on solid ground, feels muscles quiver across his body, muscles he_ _’s not used to needing._   
  
_Hands grab his shoulders, firm and warm, and he collapses into them because he_ _’s not used to needing his body. He’s slumped on his back, dead weight in a firm embrace, and the voice that calls to him is still that mingling of his mother, his loved ones, even though he knows it’s not real._   
  
_‘Welcome back, Scorpius.’_   
  
A rumble ran through the grey wasteland, and Rose jerked up, breath catching. Scorpius’ hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white, and even as the ground quaked, for long moments they could only stare at each other. 

‘Cassian Malfoy,’ said Scorpius. ‘He’s still a ghost in this world? And he knew Raskoph? Maybe -’ Then the ground quaked again, and the chess table tumbled over. He lunged to his feet. ‘You need to go.’ 

Rose nodded, pushing the chair away, standing. ‘We’ve got what we need.’ But her feet didn’t move, nor did her will stir to drag her from this place, not yet. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘ _Go_!’ yelled Scorpius, and the grey landscape exploded into blinding dust and shards of rocks as he finally ejected her from his mind. 

It was not a smooth exit. It was all tumbling thoughts as the magics connecting their minds broke down, and Rose had to scrabble her way through to keep track of what was hers and what was his, to extricate herself with the least damage to either one of them now everything collapsed. 

Which wasn’t easy when so much of what she had to drag herself through to get out _was_ her _._   
  
_‘I’ll come back every time -’_   
  
_‘You’re in my head, under my skin - in every thought, in every breath, and I protected myself because if you left you wouldn’t be tearing away from me, you’d be tearing_ out _of me._ _’_   
  
_‘I love you. That’s what I should have promised I’d say, so I’m saying it now, before the next disaster happens, before the next interruption -’_   
  
_‘I’m not just being cute. To hell with arguments. To hell with it all. To hell with golem-dragons and Prometheus Thane and Eridanos itself if it comes to it;_ nothing _will keep me from you._ _’_   
  
_‘I’ll be okay. I’ll come back. Every time.’_   
  
She could breathe, maybe, feel her own body and her own lungs and feel reality instead of the echoes of _them_ rumbling through Scorpius’ mind. _‘You can’t promise that,’_ she remembered saying, almost the last thing she’d said to him.   
  
_‘Don’t care. It’s a promise.’_   
  
And then she was in the flat she shared with Matthias Doyle, knelt with only inches between her and Scorpius Malfoy. His eyelids fluttered open, eyes bluer in the light, and his expression was barely more focused than it had been when Albus had dragged him in. 

‘I promised,’ he croaked, throat parched. ‘I’m sorry…’ 

She flew back like she’d been stung, lunged to her feet and tucked her wand away, and stumbled for composure when she looked at Albus and Matt. ‘I - we have answers.’ 


	18. O Earth That Soundest Hollow Under Me

‘I’m not sure why I’m here,’ said Selena, looking around the flat with a guarded expression. 

‘If I said,’ started Scorpius, looking a lot better now he’d had a sit down and a glass of water, ‘that I needed your help, and that it was important, what would you say?’ 

‘I’d ask for an explanation,’ blurted out Matt, and despite the flash of aggravation, Rose had to accept it was a sensible answer. 

‘Maybe we should all sit,’ she said, spotting Albus’ frustrated expression. ‘I get the feeling there’s a lot of catch-up we need to play. All of us.’ 

‘I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.’ Scorpius rubbed his temples. ‘I guess I’d been hoping the IMC would deal with the Chalice, the Council, Lethe. Raskoph. Everything.’ 

‘Why were you trusting them now,’ said Matt, stiff-backed in an armchair, ‘when you didn’t trust them while you worked with Thane?’ 

Scorpius’ lips thinned, and he didn’t look at anyone in particular. ‘I’m not sure I trust them any more than you have. It’s possibly just been wishful thinking. But I need to stop fooling myself.’ 

Rose watched the wall while she made sure her expression was schooled. Her gut and mind still swirled with being inside his memories, his thoughts, and separating her very real present from fuzzy pasts and someone else’s feelings was no small task. 

‘The Chalice,’ continued Scorpius after a moment’s thought, ‘is more-or-less in-hand. The IMC knows everything I know about it, presumably everything Thane knows about it, Rose’s mum’s Task Force and Nat Lockett are on the case.’ 

‘You and Thane were determined to get the Chalice,’ said Matt. ‘I assume you had something specific in mind once you had it? Not just denying the Council one of its toys?’ 

‘That was part of it, but yes.’ Scorpius scowled at his hands. ‘From our research, we believe that if the Chalice is destroyed, it will stop fuelling Lethe, and eradicate the virus everywhere in the world. It’s the plague’s power source.’ 

Matt’s brow immediately furrowed. ‘You can’t just _destroy_ something like that; it’s bound together by magics more ancient than we know. How on Earth were you planning on doing it?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Scorpius admitted. ‘Neither did Thane. I don’t know if the IMC knows. That was part two; most of our time was spent trying to get the bloody thing in the first place.’ 

Rose watched as Matt got to his feet, setting about pacing as he always did when he had something intellectual to chew on. ‘The most rational way of handling that,’ he mused, ‘would be identifying the actual magics which it’s built by and _undoing_ them, if that’s theoretically -’ 

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ said Scorpius, not sounding sorry at all, ‘but that’s the _one_ problem which is out of our hands.’ 

‘I’m not especially perturbed by whatever histories in your family are rearing their ugly heads, Malfoy…’ 

‘These monstrosities might give us more on the Council, _Doyle_. So unless you’ve stopped caring about the _war_ now you’ve gone and played hero for Selena -’ 

‘Hey!’ That was Albus, and Rose felt a wave of gratitude that he was intervening in an even-handed manner, getting to his feet and glaring at both men. ‘Let’s stay on topic. We _all_ care about beating the Council. We can leave the personal stuff at the door.’ 

Matt was glowering at Scorpius, but he sat down again, jaw tight. ‘Who’s Cassian Malfoy?’ 

A flinch. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure. I mean, the records were in the storage container, and he was my great-great-uncle. There’s not much on him. Slytherin House, apparently unremarkable student, was nothing but a social dilettante through the Grindelwald Wars, not in the country much. Died in a hunting accident in 1946.’ 

‘Except,’ said Rose, ‘that might not be the truth.’ 

‘Yes.’ His lips thinned. ‘I think I - it’s possible I spoke with a part of him, an echo of him, when I was… dead.’ Rose watched as his gaze locked on the wall, not looking at anyone. ‘He made it sound like he knew Raskoph, that he’d fought Raskoph. He said I had to find him, whatever that means.’ 

‘I think he’s a ghost,’ Rose said. ‘I think that wherever he died, a bit of him’s still haunting.’ 

‘And if my father was looking into him, if there’s any truth to what this shadow of Cassian told me… it’s possible he’s very important. It’s possible he knows something.’ Scorpius shrugged stiffly. ‘I don’t know.’ 

‘There’s one thing which bothers me.’ Albus paused. ‘There’s one _more_ thing which bothers me. In his interrogation, Thane implied that Raskoph wasn’t just a supervisor in the Chalice hunt, but that he’d been selected specifically for the quest, and that _he_ had provided information which led to the Stygian Plagues. I don’t think that chasing the history of Raskoph is a wild goose chase. If the Thule Society had something to do with the magics from which it was made, then I think the past of Joachim Raskoph, his work a hundred years ago, is _very_ bloody pertinent to stopping Lethe.’ 

‘Agreed,’ said Matt. ‘Which is why we’re here and talking as just us, I imagine. You can accuse me of bias, but I don’t _trust_ the IMC.’ 

Everyone looked at Selena, who raised an eyebrow. ‘What, just because my mother’s running the thing means I should defend it? I don’t see Rose and Albus getting on their high horses.’ 

Albus rolled a shoulder. ‘My father’s getting pretty gung ho authoritarian. I don’t trust the IMC either.’ 

‘I trust my mother,’ said Rose. ‘But Scorpius is right, it’s a big organisation, and big organisations have holes. We might have been impetuous to try to rescue Selena ourselves, but we had our reasons.’ 

‘And forgive me, but they’ve arrested my father because he didn’t march to the beat of their drum. That might be the IMC being over-eager, or we _know_ the Council has its fingers in some parts of them,’ Matt said. 

‘So I suspect you’re going to like what I have to say next.’ Scorpius looked at him. ‘I want to find my father.’ 

Matt just frowned. ‘Why would I like that -’ 

‘The Auror Office isn’t handling the investigation of your father any more; that’s being done by the Ministry itself. Which is a bit odd, but then, one of the things your father was arrested for was looking into Ministry secrets it turns out were to do with Draco. Draco was the biggest Council fish in the British Ministry. You’re a bright guy. I assume you worry if your father was getting too close to some uncomfortable truths for someone’s liking.’ 

Matt watched him a moment. ‘So finding your father might get mine out of prison, is what you’re saying. Why do _you_ want to find him?’ 

Scorpius wrung his hands together. ‘Because he’s a traitor. Because he’s an asset to the Council. Because it could help end this war a lot sooner.’ He glared at the coffee table. ‘Because I need to start putting _right_ the things my family has done.’ 

Selena turned her gaze skyward. ‘As ever, we have well-reasoned and rational motivations to stick our necks on the chopping board.’ 

‘We could leave this to the IMC,’ Scorpius continued. ‘But what if some people in the IMC don’t _want_ him to be found?’ 

Albus let out a slow, grating breath. ‘Oh, bollocks.’ 

‘So that’s _two_ projects,’ said Selena. ‘Hunting down an international fugitive, and looking into secrets a hundred years old which _someone_ is going to be sitting on if they’re any use at all. Just like old times.’ 

‘And I,’ said Matt, voice tight, ‘will be lucky if I can do a full day’s research.’ He tapped his metal hand on his armrest. 

‘I need to look into Cassian Malfoy,’ said Scorpius with simple conviction, then he looked to his left. ‘So I have to ask something of you, Al, mate.’ 

Albus’ brow furrowed. ‘You want me to find your father.’ 

‘We all have our part to play,’ said Scorpius. 

Matt’s expression crumpled, and Rose had to fight the instinct to go to him. If there was one evil in the world none of them knew how to handle, it was helplessness. ‘I’ll do,’ Matt said, ‘whatever I can to help you. But that’s not a great deal.’ 

Then a fresh thought hit her, and sympathy for Matt dropped off the top of her priority list. She looked sharply at Scorpius. ‘I don’t disagree with this plan, but if you’re looking into Cassian Malfoy, who probably didn’t die in Britain, who may have had dealings with the Thule Society if he lived a hundred years ago and knew Raskoph, you _certainly_ can’t do that alone.’ 

‘I don’t even know what’s coming next. It’s a bit early to make plans.’ 

‘If this has something to do with the Magical Alliance, then we’re talking conflicts which crossed Europe. We _know_ old Thule Society sites can be dangerous; you got _stabbed_ in Badenheim -’ 

‘Technically, I got _slashed_ in Badenheim. And choked.’ 

‘Oh, Merlin.’ Selena’s eyes turned skyward. ‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’ 

_That_ prompted silence, and Rose bit her lip as colour soared to her cheeks. Scorpius didn’t look at her, Albus intently studied the table, and Matt’s expression had gone rather flat. She drew a deep breath. ‘If Albus is going after Draco,’ she said slowly, carefully, ‘then Scorpius needs backup if he’s going into danger. And we can have him turning to Thane’s goons, or _I_ can go with him.’ She looked at Matt. ‘It’ll help your father, too.’ 

The look her gave her was the most unconvinced in the world, but he sighed. ‘It’s logical,’ he said. 

‘So, I guess Albus is going after Draco Malfoy, who might be sat in the middle of a secure Council bunker, on his own?’ said Selena. ‘I mean, I could go with him. _Or_ he could throw limp spaghetti against Thornweavers. That’s as valid a tactic.’ 

Matt looked at her with a frown. ‘You’re not bad in a fight -’ 

‘Being “not bad” in a fight against professional soldiers sounds like a _super_ way to get killed, _and_ to get Al killed when he tries to save me,’ Selena pointed out. ‘Frankly, if I’m going to be helpful in our third crusade, I’ll be best off returning to a place of comfort: playing second fiddle to the brainy researcher.’ She nodded at Matt. 

Albus drew a deep breath. ‘I’m prepared to do this,’ he said. ‘And I can handle myself.’ 

‘I have,’ said Matt, ‘a better idea. Because there’s one more person we’ve trusted before, who’s a hot hand with a wand, has a lot of knowledge of Council matters, and a lot of international contacts. Of course, Al would have to ask his father to let her out of jail.’ 

Rose stared at Matt. ‘Are you crazy?’ 

‘Why,’ said Matt, voice dropping. ‘Because it’s awkward? It is. I’m not _telling_ Albus to do anything. I’m just pointing out that there aren’t many people who match our parameters, and Eva Saida is one of them.’ 

‘So you thought you’d recommend Albus’ ex, who lied to and manipulated him and is now _God_ knows what?’ 

Albus cringed. ‘Can we not - this is _my_ business.’ 

‘Oh, don’t stop on my account,’ drawled Selena. ‘I haven’t had entertainment this good since my subscription to _Witch Weekly_ lapsed.’ 

Scorpius looked around the room, brow furrowing. ‘Merlin,’ he sighed. ‘This used to go more smoothly.’ 

‘You died, dear,’ Selena told him. ‘And the world apparently lost its _fucking_ mind.’ 

Rose’s lips thinned. ‘This is from the woman who conned us into waltzing unprepared to an isolated corner of Germany where we might have been murdered by Prometheus Thane.’ 

Matt lifted his hands. ‘Hey, let’s not -’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ Albus snapped at him. ‘You casually suggest I involve Saida in this, and then get sanctimonious when that idea doesn’t go down so well?’ 

‘Do you have any better ideas?’ Matt snapped. ‘I’d love to make the most of your experiences from when you were away, but we don’t _know_ anything about them!’ 

Albus bristled, but Selena let out a slow breath. ‘Oh, there it is,’ she drawled. 

Rose glared at her. ‘Would you _stop_ acting like you’re so above it all?’ 

Her eyes flashed. ‘I’m not the one kidding myself. “Oh, _I_ _’ll_ help Scorpius!” _Be_ more transparent, Rose.’ 

‘ _Fucking hell_!’ Scorpius slammed his hands on the table, then froze. ‘ _Ow_ , that really hurt. But would you all _shut up_ and listen to yourselves? Did you go nuts when I was gone? Did you forget why you _liked_ each other?’ They fell into silence, gazes dropping as his grey eyes dragged across them. ‘We ended Phlegethon together. We robbed the Rabbit’s Foot, we found Ager Sanguinis, we defeated a golem-dragon, we saved Nat Lockett and Harley on Brillig, and we _found_ the Chalice of Emrys. And we have sniped, but _Merlin_ _’s beard_ , we did not target each other like this.’ 

Selena arched an eyebrow. ‘And now you come waltzing back to -’ 

‘Now I’m standing here, looking at my friends, and seeing them in nine kinds of pain, Selena.’ Scorpius’ eyes locked onto hers. ‘I’ve been imprisoned by Joachim Raskoph before, and I _know_ it is not a pleasant experience. And unless something changed while I was away, I don’t remember you being dangled in physical danger like that before. Not alone. So I reckon _you_ _’ve_ got some stuff to work out, too.’ 

Selena’s mouth snapped shut, but Scorpius’ eyes kept sweeping, landing on Matt. ‘Like hell am I going to tell you how to live your life,’ he said, voice rough. ‘But I’ve met men with a Cause before, and you’re looking a lot like them. You know what they’re really good at doing? Getting other people killed.’ 

Matt’s expression folded into a frown, but he took a moment before he replied. ‘I lost a hand for this cause. I’m not asking anyone to take risks I wouldn’t take myself.’ 

‘Sure,’ said Scorpius. ‘But we can look out for each other.’ He looked away from Matt, and his gaze only brushed Rose before he turned to Albus. ‘Mate…’ 

Albus pushed away from the table, jaw tight. ‘Don’t you - a lot’s happened, Scorp.’ 

Scorpius looked like he’d been bludgeoned about the face as his best friend launched to his feet. ‘I’m trying to - my _exact_ point is you can’t handle shit alone…’ 

‘I’ve been doing it a while!’ Albus snapped, bolting for the door. ‘And I don’t need you telling me I was wrong.’ 

Rose sagged as Albus slammed the door behind him. ‘…do we need to talk about anything else, or is it time we went our separate ways and reflected on how _fucked up_ we are?’ 

‘I vote the latter,’ said Selena, for once without any wryness. She, too, got to her feet and started for the door - until she paused, turned, stalked back, and threw her arms around Rose. 

Rose rocked at the impact, blinking, but she squeezed Selena’s hand, the unspoken apologies exchanged before Selena pulled back. She passed Scorpius on her way to the door, and brushed her fingertips against his arm. He’d been looking pale, withdrawn, but his lips twitched at the silent touch, and they exchanged a glance before Selena left. 

Scorpius clapped his hands together. ‘ _Well_ ,’ he said. ‘I’m not staying _here_.’ 

She cleared her throat. ‘Check the records of the Magical Alliance in the Ministry,’ Rose managed to say. ‘As a relative, and a hundred years on, there might be more about Cassian Malfoy available to you than the family would have seen at the time.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He didn’t meet her gaze. ‘I’ll let you know what I find. Who knows, it might be all we need.’ He nodded awkwardly, then left without another word. 

Leaving her and Matt alone in their home, which had never before felt so unwelcoming. She turned to him, throat tight. ‘Are you -’ 

‘I need to talk to some people,’ was all he said, expression shutting down. The blandness of his voice was a chaos in itself. Until these past few days, his heart had been on his sleeve so much; if she’d been ignorant to what was going on in his mind, it had been a wilful ignorance on her part. Now she couldn’t read him, and the uncertainty was like the world falling away from under her feet. 

It didn’t really scare her.

* * 

‘This family has an awkward obsession with history,’ said Scorpius, stopping in the doorway to the Ministry’s records office when he saw Victoire Weasley sat at the front desk. 

‘You’re thinking of every pureblood family, Mister Malfoy.’ She raised an eyebrow at him and got to her feet. ‘Though I didn’t expect to see you here.’ 

_Oh yeah. We_ _’re not friends._ He was used to treating most of the Weasley family with a level of charm that left them confused. Victoire, however, looked guarded. Perhaps it was him being a Malfoy. Perhaps it was him coming back from the dead. Perhaps it was… 

‘How’s Teddy?’ 

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, and he nodded to himself. _It_ _’s definitely about Teddy_. ‘He’s fine,’ she said. ‘I assume you heard about the wedding.’ 

‘I did! Congratulations. I should send him an owl. And flowers. Though the flowers would traditionally be for _you_ , and I’ve just _said_ I’m going to send flowers, so that’s somewhat lost the charm - when’s the wedding?’ He diverted himself before he rambled too badly. 

‘We’ve pushed it back,’ she said, voice still clipped. ‘With the war and everything. Mid-December, now.’ 

‘Ah. Good. Winter weddings. Very nice.’ 

Victoire gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Can I help you, Mister Malfoy?’ 

‘Yes! Yes, I didn’t just come down here to be weird at you, though I _concede_ it is my speciality. Word of advice: don’t die, it makes everything _really_ awkward, including paperwork, and -’ 

‘What can I help you _with_?’ 

He let out a deep breath and approached the desk. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong: if Ministry files were declared classified eighty years ago, the law’s lapsed on upholding that, right?’ 

‘Unless for some reason the law was renewed. And you need to provide a valid reason for requesting the files. Really, I could explain better if you’d tell me what the files are - and I can’t _fetch_ you the files unless you tell me.’ 

‘Right, right.’ Scorpius scratched his nose. ‘I’m looking for files the Magical Alliance might have on British citizens involved in the Grindelwald War. I’m only assuming they’re classified because I’ve heard nothing about -’ 

Victoire pushed her chair rolling down the room towards a row of filing cabinets. ‘Name?’ 

‘Malfoy,’ he said. ‘Cassian Malfoy. So I can invoke family history as a reason.’ 

She opened a draw and pulled out a reference list. ‘I didn’t think it was the Malfoy family style to fight for the Alliance. Maybe _against_ it…’ 

_So Teddy picked the most_ charming _Weasley he could find_. He planted his hands on the desk. ‘Maybe that’s why I had no idea who this guy was before the other day, let alone that he fought in the war.’ 

‘I’m sure he was very heroic in doing filing for the -’ Then Victoire reeled back as the paper in her hands turned bright red. It folded itself up, twisting into the shape of a horn, and gave a deafening blast that had Scorpius - even five metres away - clamp his hands over his ears. 

‘Bloody hell!’ he yelled over the sound, while Victoire shoved the paper back in the cabinet and slammed the door shut. Silence fell. ‘What was _that_!’ 

She stood with wide eyes, and took a moment to smooth her ruffled hair. ‘That,’ said Victoire Weasley at length, ‘was a notification that the files of Cassian Malfoy are _still_ under the highest levels of security.’ 

‘Huh.’ Scorpius furrowed his brow. ‘Who do I have to see about getting past them? Office of the Minister?’ 

‘No, this isn’t sealed under British law.’ Her chair rolled, wobbling, back to the main desk. ‘These are old Alliance security restrictions. Which means it needs to be lifted with the authority of the Magical Alliance.’ 

He stared at her. ‘The Magical Alliance was dissolved after Grindelwald’s imprisonment…’ 

‘No, it wasn’t. It was downscaled, but they continued to hunt remaining Thule Society members. And there remains a small office of surviving caretakers of the records and information; old wizards who ensure these matters don’t fall into the wrong hands. You’d have to go to them directly.’ 

‘Okay. Where are they?’ 

‘The old Alliance headquarters, the most secure place in Europe. You might have heard for it; it’s where the IMC is shifting its central operations, for the exact same reasons. The castle of Niemandhorn.’ 

‘Switzerland.’ Scorpius gave a low whistle. ‘Could be worse.’ 

Victoire nodded, then plastered a fake smile across her face. ‘Was there anything else, Mister Malfoy?’ 

He furrowed his brow, opened his mouth to say something to dismiss her frostiness - then remembered all the reasons that was a bad idea, and sighed. ‘No, Miss Weasley. Thank you for your time.’ Perhaps it would be best if she remained Teddy’s protective guard-dog. Keeping him at bay was not the worst thing someone could do right now. 

The return to the Caelestis was without incident; it was easy to get from the Ministry to Diagon Alley, even when the streets were as subdued and fraught as they were now. But he wasn’t in his suite for more than a minute, eyeballing the coffee machine like one might regard a diabolical nemesis, when there was a knock at the door. 

Albus, surely; they had to talk, they needed to talk - 

‘Selena.’ Scorpius froze in the doorway. ‘If you’re here to yell at me -’ 

‘For deciding to waltz back into everyone’s lives and point out unpleasant truths like you’re _me_?’ She arched an eyebrow, and he couldn’t tell if she was being facetious or not. 

‘Er. Do you want coffee? I can’t promise it won’t kill you.’ 

‘No. I’m just stopping by.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘This is your five minute warning.’ 

‘My what?’ 

‘You have five minutes until you have to leave this hotel room.’ 

Scorpius bit his lip. ‘If my life’s in danger, this is the _worst_ heads up -’ 

‘It’s not. Well, probably not.’ Selena waltzed past him and let the door swing shut behind her. ‘In five minutes, Bellamy, Oakes, and Hollis are stopping by. And you’re going out tonight.’ 

‘They are? I am?’ 

She huffed. ‘You’re back from the dead and you’re still mooning around over Rose and freaking out about the Council and your father, and these are sincere issues, but I think you could stand to be back in the world a little bit.’ 

Scorpius winced. ‘I -’ 

‘…and let’s face it, if you’re weird and screw up with Bellamy and the others, this is _hardly_ the worst thing in the world. But you want to throw truths at me? My truth at _you_ is that you’re going to explode if you keep on walking around this bundled up.’ 

‘Is this retribution for what I said? Inflicting Bellamy on me?’ 

‘You lived with him for five years -’ 

‘So I know what he’s like!’ But Scorpius smiled, a small, sad smile, and he kicked at the carpet. ‘Thanks. Are you okay?’ 

She sighed, turning her eyes up. ‘Rose looked through your memories.’ It wasn’t a question, so he waited. ‘Did you - was there -’ 

‘…it’s not, mostly, like having a conversation.’ He stepped forward, reached to take her hands. ‘It’s like - it’s like drifting in a sea of everything that makes up everyone, and mostly you’re in the depths where it’s still, and calm, and content. Like you’re in everyone’s good dreams. And so it’s not really precise, but I did get snippets.’ He caught her eye, though could see her struggling to keep his gaze. ‘Methuselah’s there. He’s at peace. He’s happy. And he loves you.’ 

Her eyes slammed shut as the guilt stirred in him. It wasn’t that he was lying; these were all things Scorpius believed, though he had to admit to himself a lot of it was extrapolation more than fact. Treating it as fact was not the worst thing he’d ever done. 

‘I don’t…’ Selena’s voice wavered. ‘I don’t wake up missing him any more and, you know, the _dumbest_ thing is that Rose makes me feel so _guilty_ because she never put herself back together after losing you. So I look at her and I think, I think, should I be like her? Should I be so broken -’ 

Scorpius wasn’t sure what to do with the description of Rose as broken, but he _did_ know what to do about the tears pooling in Selena’s eyes. He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her. ‘Let me tell you,’ he croaked, ‘as a guy who loved a girl and died. We want to be remembered, but we want you to be _happy_. Not mourn us forever.’ 

‘That’s what I tell myself,’ she said, voice muffled against his shoulder. ‘I just - I had to know.’ 

‘I know.’ He let her pull back, let her dab at her eyes, and drew an awkward breath. ‘You and Matt…’ 

_Thud!_ ‘Malfoy! Open up before the staff realise we snuck past them!’ 

Selena’s composure was back in a flash, and Scorpius rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘Oh, Merlin,’ he groaned. ‘They’ve not changed.’ 

Her lips quirked in a smile as he padded for the door. ‘No,’ she assured him. ‘They haven’t. And I will _not_ be sticking around for this.’ 

‘Traitor,’ Scorpius muttered, and reached for the doorknob, internally bracing himself for the sea of revelry and irreverence about which he suspected Selena was right: it was probably what he needed.

* * 

The likelihood of travel meant Rose had to do what she’d been putting off doing for a while: requesting a formal leave of absence from the Curse Breakers. With the Council of Thorns on the rise, Gringotts weren’t starting excavations, but leave meant paperwork which took a while, which meant it was dark by the time she let herself into the flat. 

To find Matt perched at the edge of an armchair, obviously waiting, his travel bag at his feet. It looked full. 

Every inch of cold and stone in her rushed out from underneath, leaving her in free-fall. ‘…Matt?’ 

He didn’t look at her, staring into the fireplace. ‘When Scorpius came back, one of the first things you said was that you wouldn’t leave me for him. And I believe you. You resent so badly the idea that this - that you and me - is just a rebound that you’d fight tooth and nail against anything that would make someone say that.’ Matt stood, hefted his bag with his good hand. ‘But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and there is something there. Of course there is. You loved him and he’s back from the dead; a reaction’s _inevitable_. I don’t know what you’re thinking, I don’t know what you’re feeling, but there is _something_.’ 

Rose’s throat went dry. ‘And you’re -’ 

‘I’d wager even you don’t know what you’re feeling. Because you’re not letting yourself think about it.’ He looked at her, expression flat, voice holding a croak. ‘Because if you think about it, you might realise you love him. And then where does that leave you? Trapped with me, and you think of yourself as a good person, and a good person doesn’t run off with their ex after dumping their recently-maimed boyfriend.’ Only now did he meet her gaze, grey eyes dull. ‘So I’m leaving _you_.’ 

‘Matt -’ Her eyes widened and she flew towards him, but he stepped back, looked away. 

‘Maybe you love him. Maybe you need to be with him again. Maybe you don’t, maybe it’s just a memory, but you need to _know_ , you need to find out, and I - and I need you to find out.’ Finally, he quavered, drawing a shaky breath. ‘I will not live this life, wondering if you’re with me because you felt you _should_ be. I’ve - I’ve done that for too long, haven’t I?’ 

‘Matt -’ She caught his good hand before he could pull away. ‘You can’t - you can’t make this call for me, you can’t just _decide_ I’m going to want to be with him -’ 

‘No,’ he said, and looked her in the eye, tone firmer. ‘You need to decide. But you need to figure it out. Without obligation, without expectation. Not for me, not for him, not for what people will think of you. For _you_.’ He sighed. ‘Of course I hope that you’ll think about it. Decide it’s not him you want, let go of that memory you clung to for so long. And - without obligation, or guilt, or grief, return to me.’ 

Before she could reply he’d stepped in, bowed his head, and kissed her. Kissed her more softly than he ever had, a kiss full of regret and gentle acceptance, a kiss that lingered, and she knew why. This was possibly one last kiss, possibly one last goodbye, and he had to make the moment last. 

But he pulled back soon, too soon, and the tumbling inside her spun around to rise in her throat, choking. ‘Matt - Matt, you can’t leave me, this isn’t - _please_ , you can’t do this -’ 

The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Then tell me I’m wrong,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me you’ve let him go. Tell me you love me.’ 

A part of her howled and scrabbled and tried climbing through the darkness to do just that, but it was swallowed by the swirling cold, and fell into oblivion. Her lips parted, and nothing came out. 

He let go and stepped back. ‘See? So I’ve got to do this. Because - I love you, Rose. I love you so much it is _killing_ me. Even aside from Scorpius, the Council, _I_ have to do this. Because if I stand around waiting for you, by the time you figure things out there might be nothing left of me. I have to let you go for you, and for us. But I have to _leave_ you for… for me.’ 

Matt’s head dropped as he stepped around her, starting for the door, and the chill reached her skin as he pulled away, that sense of being incomplete that had defined her since Scorpius fell. She reeled around, reached for his jacket, but she was too slow and clutched only at air. ‘Matt, no - I _need_ you - you said you’d always wait for me!’ 

He stopped at the doorway with his back to her, shoulders tense, and took a moment to draw a deep breath. ‘I was wrong. And we both know that was melodramatic posturing from a boy who thought he could _say_ the right thing to make a girl love him. It’s more complicated than that. And yet, not complicated at all.’ He reached for the doorknob. ‘I’m going to Selena’s. You can stay here as long as you want.’ 

Then he left, left her in the cold and the darkness of the shattered husk of the empty world they’d built for themselves on illusions and denial, and even though she was more alone than she could remember being in years, the swirling vortex inside of her whispered that he was right. 

They were neither of them, not him and not her, coming back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Just a couple notes on this chapter. The 'Magical Alliance' is the unoriginal term that's thrown around for the worldwide magical forces that opposed Grindelwald's reign, though I would imagine British involvement was quite slim considering Dumbledore's presence kept Grindelwald away from the Isles._
> 
> _Niemandhorn is a location of my invention, and we'll see more of it; yet another Unfindable Magical Place, in this case a mountain of the Alps. The name's a butchering of German for a meaning of roughly 'Nobody Peak' (in the same way that 'Matterhorn' means 'Meadow Peak')._


	19. Descending Through the Dismal Night

‘I’ll put some leftovers away for your father,’ said Ginny, hauling the platter with the remains of roast beef off the table. 

‘It was really good, Mum.’ Albus leaned back on the dining chair with a satisfied groan. ‘When’s Dad back?’ 

‘If he’s very very lucky, _today._ ’ 

Al looked at the wall clock. It was eight o’ clock; this would be an early return home by the standards of the MLE these days. ‘I may wait up. I’d like a word.’ 

‘You can do that,’ said James, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. ‘But _I’m_ going home.’ 

Ginny turned away from the fridge, eyebrows raised. ‘I see how it is. Your brother’s an excuse to swoop in for dinner and disappear before it’s time to do the dishes?’ 

James grinned and punched Albus on the arm. ‘I use him. Big brother’s prerogative.’ 

‘He does, I’m just a victim here. A well-fed victim.’ 

Their mother looked between them, a gaze that was both judging at their conspiracy and pleased they were getting on. ‘It doesn’t get you out of the dishes, James.’ 

Albus stood. ‘I’ll do them, it’s fine. Jim can go.’ 

James clapped him on the arm again. ‘I owe you one,’ he said, hugged their mother, and headed out. 

Ginny glanced towards the living room and the front door, then back to Albus. ‘I’m glad you two are on better terms,’ she said, voice dropping. 

Albus grimaced. ‘Hey, so am I. It makes things easier -’ 

There was a rap at the front door, and James called through. ‘I’ll get it, I’m putting my coat on anyway.’ 

Al looked at Ginny. ‘Expecting someone?’ 

‘Not me,’ she said, and they both looked to the living room at the sound of muffled voices, then what Albus was _certain_ was muffled sobbing, then James calling again. 

‘ _Al._ ’ He sounded urgent. Not a life-or-death urgent, but Al knew that tone. _Emotional complexity is here. Help._

Albus hurried through to find James holding a sobbing Rose in his arms, and his heart lunged into his throat. But freezing in place meant it was easier for James to steer her over and more or less tip her _to_ him, and she clung like a limpet just as readily. 

‘I’m gonna go!’ James declared, and vanished through the front door before Albus could find a word. Leaving him with his cousin, more wretched and distraught than he’d ever seen her. Barring once. 

_Because you ran the last time she was broken_. ‘Rose - what’s happened, is it Scorpius, is something -’ 

Rose drew a shuddering breath and pulled back, fighting to talk, fighting for composure. Her hair was wild, her cheeks tear-stained, and her voice a squeak. ‘Matt left me.’ 

Ginny spun in the kitchen door. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ 

‘I’m sorry for coming here, Al, I know we’re not - but he said he’s going to Selena’s, and I didn’t want to be alone, and I don’t know if Mum or Dad are even home right now so…’ 

‘No, no, of course. Hey, c’mere.’ Instinct took over, instinct that had him steering her to the sofa, guiding her down with his arm still around her. ‘Of course you’re welcome here, of course I can - what happened?’ 

Rose wiped her face with the back of her hand. ‘He said that… that Scorpius being back made things complicated, and that he wanted me to make an honest decision about my feelings. Not, like, stay with him because I felt obligated. But he also…’ Her shoulders hunched up, and Albus tightened his hold. ‘He said the relationship was killing him, that waiting around for me was killing him. That I had to think about if I really wanted him.’ Her eyes slammed shut. ‘I don’t think he expects me to come back.’ 

‘I… will you?’ It was all Al could think of saying, but it was the wrong thing, bringing a fresh wave of tears. 

‘I don’t know! I don’t know what I _do_ without him, Al, he’s been by my side for so long, I don’t know how I’m supposed to cope without having him to turn to.’ 

Ginny appeared in the living room to set two cups of tea on the coffee table, and spoke in a low voice. ‘You can stay here as long as you need, Rose; overnight, longer. Do you want me to Floo your parents, let them know what’s happened, let them know you’re alright?’ 

It was a gentle offer, one open to refusal, but Rose gave an awkward nod. ‘Thanks. Yes. I don’t - I’m okay to see them, but they’re busy and I don’t want them worrying, but they should _know_ …’ 

‘I’ll tell them,’ Ginny said softly, and squeezed her shoulder before she left for the upstairs study. 

Rose reached for the tea with shaking hands but didn’t drink it, staring at the surface. ‘I’m sorry for coming here,’ she mumbled again. ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’ 

‘Don’t be sorry,’ said Albus, not removing his arm. ‘I’m glad you _could_ come to me.’ He frowned at the table for a moment. ‘You might not have Matt to turn to, but you have me, you know?’ 

She looked away. ‘I’m not… used to that.’ 

It was a comment made without accusation, a regretful statement of fact, and he didn’t know to respond to it. He settled for not trying. ‘It sounds like this is at least… progress? I know that’s a harsh thing to say, but he’s not gone forever.’ 

‘Progress? My boyfriend leaving me is progress?’ 

‘You admitted, after Hogsmeade, that he didn’t make you happy, he just made you… not-miserable,’ said Albus in a low voice. ‘Now everything’s changing. Scorpius is back. You _do_ have a lot to think about.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Rose wrapped her hands around the warm mug. ‘But what kind of bitch dumps her recently-maimed boyfriend?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said Albus, ‘but that’s not what happened. And I also remember a girl who refused to dump her plagued boyfriend, even though she didn’t want to be with him any more, and all that happened was it made a lot of people unhappy.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Even though I get why you made that choice.’ 

She slumped, stared into the tea. ‘I used to dream of Scorpius coming back. It was always the most vivid dream, the worst dream, because it was so real and then I’d wake up and -’ 

‘And you’d remember,’ he whispered. ‘You’d remember you lived in a different world.’ 

Rose nodded, jaw tight. ‘It happened the night before the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match, two years ago. I dreamt like it had never happened, like I came down for breakfast and he was a _brat_ , teasing me about split loyalties until you dragged him off… and then I woke up.’ She drew a wavering breath. ‘Slytherin played with black armbands for Scorpius, and their hearts weren’t in it, and Gryffindor smashed them and I never saw my brother look more miserable than the first time he captained his team to victory. He _apologised_ to me for it afterwards. Nobody really cheered.’ 

Albus remained silent, arm in place, and she went on. 

‘Of course, come the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match… business as usual. It was months later. People were used to the absences. They played like you two had graduated, or dropped out. And, er, still lost.’ Of all things, Rose sounded _guilty_ for criticising the Slytherin Quidditch Team. ‘But nobody was embarrassed for beating them. Time rolled on. For everyone else.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I had a different point at the beginning of this. Scorpius coming back was once a dream come true. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have those dreams even a fortnight ago. But now it’s real and it’s turned everything upside-down.’ 

‘It’s _huge_ ,’ Al said. ‘You’re allowed to be blind-sided by it. I think Matt had a point if he thought you’d wind yourself up trying to react how you’re “supposed” to, though. You need to figure out what you really feel. What you really want.’ 

‘I have no idea.’ 

‘Then…’ Albus drew a deep breath. ‘You’ve got me to help you.’ 

She looked up at him, and he could see the spark of pain in those dark eyes. Her expression creased. ‘Al… you…’ 

‘I left,’ he murmured. ‘And I - and I’m sorry.’ He saw her face start to crumble, and pushed on. ‘It was wrong. It was wrong to my family, to the people who cared about me. It was wrong to me. But - but you and I - we were supposed to be allies, always, weren’t we? Partners. I let you down.’ His throat tightened. ‘I failed you. And I’m sorry, Rose.’ 

She didn’t burst into tears, he suspected because she was all out. But she did give a strangled sob and threw herself against him, and he wrapped his arms around her for his own comfort as much as hers. ‘I missed you.’ Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. ‘You were the only person who’d get it, who’d understand; you left me and I _missed you_ …’ 

He kissed the top of her head. ‘I missed you too,’ Albus rumbled. ‘I just - I felt too guilty. Too… responsible.’ 

‘Because of Saida?’ 

His shoulders tensed, but she reached for his hand. Her touch was warm from the tea, a warmth which spilt through him. ‘When I thought she’d betrayed us in Venice - I mean, she _did_ betray us, but I thought she was why the Council found us, which was why Scorpius died, and _I_ trusted her, I…’ 

‘Al.’ Rose’s voice was soft. ‘You still feel betrayed. You still feel like you trusted her, and had that trust thrown in your face. But she didn’t sell us out to the Council. She saved us in Ager Sanguinis. _And_ we wouldn’t have found Selena without her.’ 

‘I know -’ 

‘You feel we were hurt because you trusted her. But your trust meant she chose to turn on the Council. She chose to help us. She chose to save us. We weren’t _hurt_ because you trusted her. We were _saved_ because you trusted her.’ Rose’s lips twisted. ‘Maybe it’s easier for me to say this now Scorpius isn’t gone.’ 

The tension that had broiled in his gut since their meeting that afternoon flared up. ‘You were more critical of her earlier.’ 

‘I was critical of Matt bringing it up like he did. Are you okay with - you and Scorpius…’ 

Albus closed his eyes. ‘I feel like I’ve fucked up the last two years. Which I probably have. But if he was throwing around harsh truths at Selena, at Matt, I didn’t - I couldn’t -’ The words clogged up his throat, and he had to fight through them. ‘I didn’t want to hear it from him.’ 

Her grip on his hand tightened. ‘I know.’ 

‘Are you going to be okay working with him?’ 

She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing to work on yet. We’ve got to find a lead first.’ 

Albus’ brow knotted. ‘You’ve got one. He talked to Victoire this evening. You need the Magical Alliance records in Niemandhorn.’ 

‘Oh.’ Rose blinked. ‘Maybe he sent me an owl or a Floo, I haven’t… I didn’t check. I’ll go see him in the morning. Ask.’ She looked up, corners of her eyes creasing. ‘Do you know what you’re going to do about Saida? Matt was out of line to throw it at you like that, but he…’ 

‘He has a point, yes.’ Albus grimaced. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. At what point does her good outweigh her bad? At what point does her usefulness outweigh her crimes? She could help us do a whole lot of good, but does that mean she shouldn’t be punished? And if she’s punished, who does that help? Whose life does that improve? Merlin help me, I actually _believe_ she’s changing, or wants to change, and regrets it. Is punishment then… cruel?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ 

‘And that’s just wider morality.’ He huffed. ‘I… you know me, Rose. You know I’m not good at letting people in. But I let her in and…’ 

‘You didn’t have long,’ Rose murmured, ‘but you were happy. I remember.’ 

‘She was like nobody I’d ever met. I guess I know why.’ 

Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand. ‘You can work with her without having to forgive her. You can work with her and then throw her in a cell again afterwards.’ 

‘That,’ Albus murmured, ‘feels an awful lot like _using_ her.’ 

To his surprise, Rose smiled - a wide, genuine smile that shone in her eyes. ‘You haven’t changed that much, you know.’ 

‘I -’ 

‘You still have that sense of fair play.’ 

He grimaced. ‘Only because he’s back. It’s like a reprieve. It’s like I can breathe more easily again.’ 

She slumped, leaning against him, and once again he put his arm around her. For the first time in years, as they were silent for a few gathered heartbeats, everything felt normal. Cousins who’d been closer to each other than to their own siblings, to any of the extended family, allies against everything - and now allies against their own pain. 

‘The tiniest part of me,’ Rose whispered, ‘feels like it was simpler when he was gone. But I know I’d rather have all of this complex pain and joy than simple, pure agony.’ 

Words rose to Albus’ lips, unbidden, and he couldn’t stop them. ‘Do you still love him?’ 

‘Of course I do,’ she said, oddly calm. ‘I don’t think it’s possible for me to _stop_ loving him. But love isn’t the problem, is it?’ She gave a gentle snort, then glanced up at him, and there was a certain wry archness to her voice when she retaliated. ‘Do you still love Saida?’ 

Albus’ heart clenched - and then loosened, and with it came a fresh wave of that complex pain and joy. ‘I don’t know. But love isn’t the problem,’ he murmured. ‘Is it?’

* * 

‘I thought,’ said Selena when she opened her door to see a damp Matt stood there, ‘we didn’t show up unexpected like...’ Only then did she see how he stood, shoulders slumped, expression utterly sunken, arm in a sling under his coat because even with the prosthetic fitted he still needed it elevated from time to time. Her insides fluttered. ‘Something’s happened - you - Rose broke up with you?’ 

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but his brow knotted. ‘Close.’ Matt’s voice was hoarse. ‘I left her.’ 

‘Holy shit.’ It wasn’t her most sympathetic reaction, but before she could think, she guiding him in, closing the door behind her. ‘Holy _shit_ , Matt, what happened?’ 

He gave a short, hollow laugh. ‘I never saw you look so surprised.’ 

‘You show up at my door out of the blue and drop this, this _bombshell_ , of course I’m surprised!’ She led him into the living room, where Miranda was sat with a magazine. 

‘Bombshells?’ she drawled, lifting her eyes - which immediately narrowed as she took in the sight. ‘I’m on tea duty, aren’t I.’ 

‘This might be whiskey duty,’ said Selena, brow furrowed. 

‘No, no.’ Matt waved his good hand as he collapsed onto an armchair. ‘I’m still on potions which might make me vomit and die if I drink alcohol.’ 

‘Tea it is!’ declared Miranda, and vanished. She was, Selena thought, rather good at that. 

She turned to Matt. ‘Can I take your coat…?’ 

‘You didn’t think I’d do it, did you.’ He met her gaze, rather wide-eyed. She wondered how much of those painkilling potions he’d taken before he got here, or if emotions alone were leaving him swaying. ‘You thought I’d never leave her. You thought I’d be there until that toxic relationship killed us both.’ 

‘I… also didn’t think Scorpius would come back. That kind of changes things.’ She reached for his coat anyway, ushering him out of it. ‘Are you okay?’ 

He let her, mindful of his right arm, then collapsed onto the sofa. ‘I need a favour. Can I sleep on the couch? I’ve let her keep the flat, because it’s shitty to dump her and then _make her homeless_ , but Mum’s abroad and I don’t want to face Annie, not tonight.’ 

‘We have a spare room. But yes. As long as you need,’ Selena blurted, and in the end she just tossed the coat over an armrest and perched next to him. ‘Matt, you’re not okay…’ 

‘You’re so smart with people. I just walked out on the love of my life, and though I said she had choices to make and things to think about, I _know_ I’m never coming back to her. No. I’m so not okay.’ 

He was dry-eyed but his voice grated even through the wry humour, and she couldn’t help but put her arms around him. He slumped against her, drained and lifeless. ‘I’m so sorry, Matt,’ she murmured. 

‘Don’t be. You were right. All along. But you knew that, didn’t you?’ he said miserably. ‘She didn’t love me, and maybe she _could_ but she had to get over Scorpius first, and that… wasn’t happening. Maybe it never will.’ 

‘Ironically,’ Selena mused, ‘she has a better chance of getting over him now he’s back.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He frowned at his hand. ‘I just don’t know if I’m going to wait around to see if that happens.’ His shoulders hunched in. ‘That’s so fucking selfish of me -’ 

‘Matt -’ She squeezed his shoulder, careful of his bad arm. ‘You could stand to be a bit more selfish. A lot more selfish.’ 

‘I _have_ been selfish, though, haven’t I? I wanted her so badly, I didn’t even pay attention to if it was right for us to be together. For her. For me. I thought having her in a terrible situation was better than not having her at all.’ 

‘You wanted to _help_ her, that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.’ Her hand came up to brush his messy hair back, and he closed his eyes, relaxed in the embrace. ‘But I think you were right to do this. I think this needed to happen.’ 

‘I know,’ he mumbled. ‘It just took me a long time to listen to you. And I wouldn’t have got here without you.’ He looked up, slate-grey eyes stormier than usual in the low light. ‘You know, I thought this - losing her - would be the end of the world. And now it’s happened, and I’m still here.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Selena murmured, still stroking his hair. ‘The end of the world’s sort of like that. It doesn’t kill you.’ 

‘What I said the other day…’ His voice went hoarse, and her chest tightened as he swallowed. ‘I meant it. Listening. Helping. I even meant the bit where you don’t have to talk about it. But Scorpius threw it in your face…’ 

‘You’ve had a horrid day, Matt, one of the worst,’ she said, and remembered him pointing out her evasion tactics. Her nose wrinkled, and she sighed. ‘Let me worry about you, instead?’ She saw his lips purse, and she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. ‘Just for a little bit. I promise.’ 

He sighed, tension fading from him, but she could almost feel the ache in his bones taking its place. ‘Just for a little,’ he whispered. She heard Miranda’s footsteps as her housemate came tromping back, likely with tea, and pulled away - but he caught her eye for a heartbeat more. ‘I’m going to hold you to that.’

* * 

Drinks with Graham Bellamy, Reuben Oakes, and Peregrine Hollis would not have been on Scorpius’ to-do list even under normal circumstances. Normal, pre-death-and-resurrection circumstances. It was made worse by Bellamy trying too hard to be normal, Hollis being incredibly awkward, and Oakes trying to compensate for this by being simply _loud_. 

They’d started in the Leaky Cauldron, and Scorpius remembered why he hadn’t gone out much since his return when everyone stared at him. 

‘Ignore them!’ Oakes boomed, and passed him a tankard of foaming ale. ‘They’re just jealous of your not-dead-ness.’ 

_Fuck me,_ Scorpius groaned internally, and drank his pint. 

‘So! So, what’re you doing these days,’ Bellamy demanded. 

‘Oh, you know. Sitting in my hotel suite. Contemplating how to re-integrate with society. Watching my ex-girlfriend be emotionally distraught. Plotting how to bring down international mercenaries.’ _Selena, this was a terrible idea._   
  
‘Weasley wasn’t -’ 

Oakes judiciously cut Hollis off. ‘You and Weasley! _That_ was something we never got to ask you about!’ He clapped Scorpius on his back hard enough to spill the ale. ‘How the buggery did _that_ happen?’ 

Scorpius bit his lip. ‘Crises change people, guys. We were in a tough spot, it meant we saw and understood more of each other.’ 

‘Sure,’ said Bellamy, eyes widening with desperation. ‘It just - I mean, she used to be so uptight, and then Phlegethon happened, and then the break, and then we came back and she was just _miserable_ …’ 

‘I couldn’t comment on that. I was dead at the time.’ Scorpius drained his tankard in record time, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. ‘Next pub?’ 

‘You were famous, you know,’ said Hollis as they weaved into Diagon Alley, the staring eyes of the Leaky Cauldron’s patrons left far behind. ‘During Phlegethon, when you were abroad, _especially_ after you died -’ 

‘Leave it out, Hol, he doesn’t want to hear this,’ Oakes chided him. 

‘No, you’re alright. Do tell why I can’t go down the street without being gawped at,’ Scorpius sighed. 

‘I just mean - he were, weren’t he!’ Hollis looked indignant. ‘Famous sacrifice, hero, all that. And then now he’s _back_ , there’s all that fuss about his father being a bloody -’ 

Bellamy clipped Hollis around the ear. ‘Merlin’s teeth, Hol, put a lid on it. Where’s the next pub?’ 

The One-Legged Hippogriffwas a pub Scorpius hadn’t been in before, dingy and run-down and thoroughly unwelcoming. People didn’t stop staring at him there, either, and the ale tasted like it had been dragged out of the bottom of several barrels. The landlord did, however, serve some sort of Norwegian clear alcohol which burnt all the way down, and threatened to do so on the way back up. 

That didn’t stop the staring and it didn’t make his companions shut up, but Scorpius found them a good deal more tolerable after several shots. 

‘So tell me,’ he slurred as they staggered into their third establishment of the evening, the busier and more upmarket Nothing in Moderation, where he was much more easily overlooked, ‘how’d the _Quidditch_ go?’ 

It was a guaranteed way to get Bellamy talking, and as Bellamy was the one Scorpius objected to the least, he knew he’d judged well. Ranting about Hufflepuff team - the wounds of the last defeat of Slytherin only six months old - were joined by Oakes bringing more, brightly-coloured drinks, and Scorpius was just starting to think he could get through the evening in one piece. 

Then he felt the eyes on him. 

He’d been stared at all evening; being stared at some more was nothing new. But this wasn’t the open gawping, this wasn’t accompanied by furtive whispering or discreet second glances. He’d fought for his life too many times to not know when he was being assessed. Analysed. Sized up. 

Bellamy was allowed to rant on as Scorpius leaned back in his chair and let his gaze sweep across the bar. Packs of friends out for drinks of a weekend, teams of work colleagues out and about; Britain might be intimidated by the Council of Thorns, and nobody wanted to linger outside, but Nothing in Moderationstill saw a boom in business with the Three Broomsticksout of action. 

When he saw who was sizing him up, it came with a sinking and surprised recognition. He drained his drink and looked at the other three. ‘I’m going to get a refill.’ 

They said something, maybe asked for their own drinks, but Scorpius ignored them and weaved through the crowd, heading for the bar. He let his posture slip, let himself stumble more than the alcohol demanded, adopted the facade of intoxication - and kept his hand on his wand, slipped up his sleeve. 

When he got to the bar, he all but fell against it, elbows on the side, and let his voice drop as he watched his target out of the corner of his eyes. ‘You don’t want to do anything here. Too many people.’ 

John Colton raised an eyebrow at this, and sipped his beer. ‘I wasn’t planning on it.’ 

‘What _was_ the plan? Wait until I was gone? Hope to get me on my own?’ 

Lips pursed. ‘Honestly, I didn’t _have_ much of a plan.’ 

‘You should. I’m tougher than I look. You want to turn around, go home, and I won’t tell anyone.’ He didn’t know John Colton very well at all; he’d barely paid attention to Matthias Doyle in school, and he’d paid even _less_ attention to his loyal shadow. It would do nobody any good to learn the truth of Colton’s betrayal, but for now all Scorpius could think about was making sure the bar didn’t turn into a pitched battle with an undercover Thornweaver. 

Colton’s perplexed expression remained. ‘Steady on, old chap. Didn’t mean to cause offence.’ 

Scorpius looked at him straight on, grip on his wand tight, and gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I get offended when someone’s looking to shank me.’ 

‘Shank -’ Colton put his beer bottle down. ‘What do _you_ think’s going on here?’ 

There was a moment as Scorpius considered the situation, brow furrowed. ‘You’re… _not_ a secret Thornweaver agent planning an attack?’ 

John Colton stared at him a moment - then burst into laughter so hard he doubled over, clutching his gut. ‘Attack? Lord, no! Oh, Christ, this - you thought I was…’ 

Scorpius was not accustomed to circumstances slipping away from him like this. He straightened, abandoning the veneer of drunkenness. ‘You were staring at me!’ 

John wiped the corner of his eye as he regained control. ‘I’d like to think I was issuing most _discreet_ glances of positively _understated_ attention!’ 

‘I’m sorry!’ Mortification was not, Scorpius thought, much better than being attacked. ‘I’m really sorry, I thought - old habits die hard!’ 

‘I’ll say! Can’t a fellow look across a bar without being accused of a completely _different_ sort of ulterior motives?’ John gave a wry smile that made dark eyes twinkle. ‘Though, join me for a drink and I won’t hold it against you. No ulterior motives, I promise. You just looked bored out of your _skull_ , sat there with those three.’ 

Realisation sparked embarrassingly in Scorpius’ brain, but all he could do was return the toothy smile and settle on a bar stool. ‘I’m remembering why I didn’t spend much time with them in school.’ 

‘Some men,’ said John, waving a hand at the bartender, ‘emerge from Hogwarts better, brighter, and enthused to take on the world. Others still can’t let go of absolutely _turgid_ Quidditch matches. Slytherin were _terrible_ without you and Potter, truly.’ 

‘Of all the things I denied the world, my Quidditch prowess is what I feel guiltiest about.’ 

‘You _should._ You made the games rather more engaging. Now, what’re we drinking? I wouldn’t recommend the beer, it tastes most fascinatingly of utter desolation.’ 

‘I don’t really fancy a pint of utter desolation,’ Scorpius mused. ‘Let me buy you a cocktail, instead.’ 

‘If you _must_ , but I insist on it being a thoroughly _fruity_ one…’

* * 

The next morning came with a most necessary Floo to room service for breakfast and buckets of coffee. Scorpius sat in his suite in one of the hotel-issued dressing gowns, not at all ready to face the world, when there was a knock on the door. He groaned and slumped over, and when he opened up to see Rose stood there, every inch of him tightened into a tense, terrified knot. ‘What’re you…’ 

She looked tired. Pale. Worn, but he couldn’t think about this now, especially as she shrugged past him inside, because they were _working_ together, weren’t they? They could talk. ‘I’m sorry, it’s early, but I saw Al last night and he mentioned you’d seen Victoire, and we’re going to Niemandhorn?’ 

Scorpius blinked at her. ‘What? Oh. Yes. That’s where we’ll find more on Cassian.’ 

‘We’ll need train tickets,’ said Rose, too quickly, and there was something detached about her, like he remembered when she was burying herself in study or contemplation so she didn’t have to think about a problem. ‘Everyone’s heading there now Lillian Rourke’s uprooting the IMC to use the castle’s old meeting halls -’ 

‘Yes, I’ll - I’ll handle it, Rose.’ He lifted his hands. ‘I’d have sent word sooner. I just didn’t have more than five minutes to myself after I got home from the records office. Selena coerced the guys to take me out for a drink, and I - well, I was going to tell you today.’ 

‘It’s not a problem,’ said Rose, still talking very fast. ‘I’ll just need to pack and make preparations and I’ll tell Mum, because she can help make sure we get tickets -’ 

‘I’ll sort it out -’ 

‘I’m sure we can travel on the Ministry’s knut -’ 

‘There had better be coffee,’ boomed the voice of John Colton as the man himself swanned out the bathroom door, adorned in nothing more than a towel, hair wet and swept back. ‘Because that shower was _superb_ and if there’s coffee, this day is going to be better than sex.’ 

Scorpius’ eyes crashed shut, but he didn’t need to see the scene to picture it. John, the picture of unsubtlety, made worse by all that bare skin even darker against the bone-white towel. Rose, staring, jaw dropped. Him, wishing the world would swallow him up. 

He could almost hear John floundering. ‘…which we absolutely did not have.’ 

_Oh, Merlin_ _’s tits._

When Scorpius opened his eyes, Rose was backing off for the door. ‘I’m - I’m so sorry, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have - I’m going to go!’ 

‘Rose, you’re not intruding -’ Scorpius extended a desperate hand. 

‘I _really_ am, and this is none of my business, and I’m so sorry - I’ll Floo you…’ Then she was gone, slamming the door behind her, and leaving the two men stood in the mid-morning sun streaming into the hotel suite. 

John’s expression tensed. ‘ _Bugger_. I didn’t know she was here.’ 

Scorpius pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You weren’t to know. There _is_ coffee, by the way.’ 

John didn’t move, and would have been a comical sight, so crestfallen with nothing but a towel to protect his dignity, had anyone felt like laughing. ‘I suppose it would have been telling if I _had_ known and hid in the bathroom until she was gone.’ 

‘I didn’t say you should have done that.’ Scorpius turned, frowning. 

‘No, but you obviously didn’t want her to _know_ , did you.’ 

‘That situation,’ said Scorpius, pointing at the door through which Rose had disappeared, ‘is so complicated I don’t know where it starts or ends or what I’m even _supposed_ to think. _Shame_ , or anything like that, is so far down on the list…’ 

John watched him for a long moment, and Scorpius was so unaccustomed to him looking serious that he wasn’t sure what to think. Eventually, John drew a deep breath. ‘I’m going to find my trousers,’ he decided, ‘and then I’m going to have a coffee, and then I think I should go.’ 

‘Hey!’ Scorpius moved to intercept him as he headed for the bedroom. ‘That’s not what I meant. I didn’t - I wish Rose hadn’t seen that, but I wish about a _billion_ things with Rose and none of them can happen, but _you -_ I’m not regretting what’s happened.’ 

His hand came to John’s elbow, and John stared at it like he wasn’t sure what to do. Then the corners of his lips curled with that whimsical smile. ‘Don’t worry, Scorp,’ he said after a heartbeat. ‘I’m not looking for flowers or moonlit serenades or even a round two.’ 

‘Oh, so I was just a passing distraction?’ Scorpius tried to return the smile, bring back the levity which had lifted the whole night. 

‘I think,’ said John, not unkindly, ‘that was the case for both of us. Considering how you looked at her just then.’ 

‘Hey,’ Scorpius said again, tightening his hold as John went to pull away. He tugged him back, slid a hand around his waist, bare skin warm against the coldness of Rose’s staring. ‘You’re right, my life’s a whole world of complicated, and I… thanks for getting that. But you have _no_ idea how much I needed last night.’ 

John’s grin was a white slice of smugness. ‘You were knotted tighter than a sailor’s rigging once I got my hands on you. I have _some_ idea how much you needed to unwind.’ 

It was hard to stop his own smile from being tinged with all the apprehension of the darkness he knew was coming. ‘Maybe I should hurl flowers at you next time I’m tense. I’ve even got a guitar somewhere for some serenades…’ 

‘Carnations,’ said John, not at all serious. ‘I’m fond of them. But not as fond as, right now, I am of my trousers and that coffee.’ And he slid out of Scorpius’ grip with that wry smile, sauntered to the bedroom with no shame of the view he was giving, and disappeared to find some clothes and dignity as the curtain fell on the theatre they both knew would have no second showings. 


	20. The Old Order Changeth

‘You’re hunting Draco Malfoy.’ Ginny looked at the papers Albus had strewn over the coffee table. ‘Did you try a fishing rod with money dangling as bait? A whistle which only particular kinds of arseholes can hear?’ 

He looked up at his mother with a wan smile. ‘I thought you’d disapprove.’ 

‘I do disapprove. I think you should let him rot in whatever hole he’s found.’ 

‘I mean, this is going to take me out the country. The IMC is technically looking for him.’ 

Ginny shrugged. ‘I think you should talk to your father, for reasons which aren’t just to do with Draco Malfoy. But I get why you’re doing what you’re doing, Al. You know, your father _used_ to be a rebel.’ 

‘And now he’s championing law and order. I thought it’d be Aunt Hermione who did that.’ 

‘So did I.’ She sighed. ‘How was Rose when she left?’ 

‘Tired. I think she wants to get busy, too.’ Al scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘I _do_ need to talk to Dad. Is he - I mean, how long has he been like this?’ 

His mother’s lips thinned. ‘He took your leaving hard, Al - I’m not blaming you for his choices. Your father’s always shouldered the burdens of the world. He does his best to keep everyone safe, to put himself in danger _for_ everyone. And that was one thing when it was just him and his wand and Voldemort. Now he’s got the whole Auror Office to use to keep everyone safe.’ 

‘So safety trumps choice.’ 

‘It’s not an easy thing, to accept the helplessness in loss. Your father never mastered it.’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘Guess I can’t judge him there.’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said Ginny softly. ‘You came back. You helped your friends.’ 

He looked up - then there was a knock on the door, a particular _rat-tat-tat-tat_ which had his head snap around. ‘That’ll be Scorp,’ he said, before he knew he’d even recognised it. ‘I guess he and Rose are off soon.’ 

Ginny hummed, but neither passed comment nor stuck around as Albus went to let Scorpius in. 

He was wilder-haired than usual, clothes rumpled. ‘Al! Glad you’re in. Wasn’t entirely sure you _are_ staying here.’ 

Albus let him in. ‘You alright?’ 

‘Yes, yes. Train tickets out of King’s Cross for Niemandhorn in two hours. You would not _believe_ the paperwork for international travel these days. I’m far too used to travelling illegally.’ Scorpius waved a dismissive hand. ‘I came here for, um. You’ve got some of my stuff.’ 

Albus’ brow knotted. ‘Yeah, like - old clothes and the like, they’re in a trunk. Do you really want all that?’ 

‘No,’ Scorpius sighed, and it was a bizarre sight, him stood in the sitting room in Godric’s Hollow, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. ‘I just needed an excuse to come by.’ 

‘What, like, you flitting off for a few days, and _I_ might be gone by the time you come back…’ 

‘I was an _arse_ last time we talked,’ said Scorpius flatly. 

‘You weren’t - I shouldn’t have run off like I did.’ Albus scowled. ‘Maybe I’m just an idiot.’ 

‘I doubt it, mate. You’re the smart one.’ 

‘I didn’t…’ Albus stared at the carpet, then kicked at the corner of it. ‘I thought you were going to tell me I was wrong to run away. And I know I was wrong to run away. I just couldn’t, right then, stand to hear that from _you_.’ 

Scorpius’ expression fell. ‘I wasn’t going to judge you. How the hell _could_ I, the choices I made? And if it had been - I mean, if things had gone differently, if it had been _you_ in Ager Sanguinis, not me…’ 

‘You’d have had Rose -’ 

‘And she’s not _you_.’ Scorpius padded over, lifted a hand - and then instead of reaching out, punched him on the shoulder. ‘You _made_ me, mate. You saw something decent in me when everyone else had reached their conclusions. Rose made me _want_ to be better, in all sorts of ways. You? You made me believeI _could_ be good.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t judge you. I’d have been lost without you, too.’ 

Albus swallowed hard, unable to meet Scorpius’ gaze. ‘Do you think Matt’s right? That Saida can help with finding your father?’ 

He saw the wince. ‘I believe she’s on our side. I believe she’s skilled. And I believe she could make a speech a lot like the one I just made.’ 

‘But the things she’s _done_ …’ 

‘ _I_ _’ve_ done things,’ Scorpius pointed out, voice tensing. ‘With Thane, these last few months…’ 

‘But I _know_ you.’ Albus looked up, eyes blazing, and his words had to be more forceful than he’d meant, because Scorpius took a step back. ‘I know who you are, deep down, I know I could hurl my life in your hands and you would _never_ let me fall.’ 

A muscle in the corner of Scorpius’ jaw flickered. ‘I can’t tell you who to trust, or who to forgive. I can tell you that her and I? We’re not that different. Just my sins never hurt _you_.’ 

Suddenly, this was the last topic Al wanted to discuss. He looked away. ‘Did you see Rose?’ 

‘Um. Yeah. She stopped by this morning, though it was only really brief -’ 

‘Did you two talk?’ He had no idea what ripple the breakup was going to make, but there would be waves, for sure. 

‘Not _really_.’ Scorpius winced. ‘I confirmed Niemandhorn, and that was it. She, uh - it wasn’t really time to stick around…’ 

‘Did you fight?’ 

‘No!’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It was just awkward, ‘cos, er, she showed up really early and I had company.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘ _Company_?’ 

‘Um. Selena made me go out with Bellamy and the guys last night, I think she was trying to give me a slice of normalcy, but the guys are so _boring_ , Al…’ 

‘So you ditched them.’ Despite the inevitable spiral of drama this had to cause, Albus couldn’t help but give a wry smile. At least this was _normal_ drama, the kind of problem people his age were supposed to deal with. ‘Who is she?’ 

‘Ah.’ Scorpius cleared his throat. ‘Not, uh, she. Colton. John Colton.’ 

Albus’ jaw dropped. ‘ _Colton_?’ 

‘Yeah, I know… super awkward when he’s _Doyle_ _’s_ friend, but in _my_ defence, _he_ was flirting _first_ …’ 

‘But he’s - I didn’t know you -’ 

Scorpius squinted at him. ‘I didn’t think I was exactly subtle.’ 

Albus flapped. Facts he’d taken for granted about the past were now like mud slipping out from underfoot, and the more minor they were, the more unsettling they got. ‘But you kept throwing flowers and chocolates at girls…’ 

‘ _Presenting_ flowers and chocolates as _gifts_.’ Scorpius waggled his finger. ‘I do prefer girls, _yes_ , but in case you didn’t notice I’m appreciative of all _manner_ of fine traits.’ 

‘But - but- Rose!’ 

‘I think we can call my death a breakup, and _she_ _’s_ with Doyle, and you have _no idea_ how good it felt to just unwind with someone where there were no issues, no _guilt_ , no agonising over what’s next.’ Scorpius’ lips twisted, and he clapped Albus on the shoulder. ‘You should try it!’ 

Albus had watched Scorpius flirt wildly with girls for years. As a defence mechanism, as a means of drawing fire off him, and out of what he presumed was genuine affection. Only now, looking back, could he consider that pointed jokes had been thrown at boys just as much, and he had to wonder how much _more_ had gone on in their school years beyond his notice. 

As such, he didn’t clock that Scorpius didn’t know about Matt and Rose’s breakup. 

‘My last girlfriend was a spy sent to destroy us,’ he managed to say blandly. 

‘I rest my case,’ said Scorpius, then sighed. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. But I didn’t want you still pissed at me.’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘I was never pissed at you, Scorp.’ 

Scorpius gave a gentle, pleased smile. ‘And I couldn’t blame you. Not for a thing, you hear?’ 

‘I’ll find your father. I’ll get you answers. Whatever it takes, even if it takes _her._ I promise.’ 

‘I don’t want you doing something which screws you up -’ 

‘You’re _back_.’ Albus grabbed his shoulder, voice firm. ‘And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.’ 

Scorpius’ smile faded, the ghost of emotion still on his face but tinged with sombreness. He clasped Albus’ wrist. ‘I wish you saw the effect you have on people.’ 

‘I didn’t have it while you were gone.’ 

‘You don’t need me for it. It’s all in _you_. It _is_ you. She didn’t love you for _me_. Amazing though my cheekbones are.’ Scorpius patted the back of Albus’ hand, then pulled away. ‘I’ll see you when I’m back.’ 

‘When we’re both back. You stay safe, you understand?’ 

‘Same to you, you great lug -’ 

But Scorpius wasn’t more than a footstep away before they both turned back for a firm, backslapping hug. It wasn’t exactly fear that squirmed in Albus’ gut, because a trip to Niemandhorn was not enough to strike terror into anyone’s heart, but they both knew too well how fleeting these moments could be. 

It was enough of a burning, overriding need to make the most of having Scorpius here, with him, making him feel on top of the world, that Albus didn’t even think about breaking the news of Matt leaving Rose to him until long after he’d heard the _crack_ of Scorpius’ Disapparition from beyond the front yard. 

Leaving him stood in his front room to shove his hands in his pocket and glare out the window for reasons which he didn’t quite grasp. ‘John Colton,’ he muttered, venomous despite himself. ‘Son of a bitch.’

* * 

‘If you two are here for another argument,’ said Ron as Albus crossed the Auror offices, ‘then let me know so I can take lunch. A long lunch. Possibly lasting until dinner. I’m a growing lad, you know -’ 

‘I’m not here to fight.’ Albus slumped into the chair across from Ron’s desk, his uncle forever the guardian to his father’s office. ‘What sort of mood’s he in?’ 

‘Oh, he’s thrilled, positively _thrilled_ that Scorpius is leaving the country. You’d think I’d be the more angry guy, seeing as Rose is going with him, but apparently not.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘You’ve not legally got Scorpius under any restrictions. He’s not charged with or suspected of anything.’ 

‘He’s not suspected because we _know_ , but you’re right. It was a kind of implication that in exchange for his freedom, he’d cooperate with us. And he _is_ cooperating, he’s keeping us informed, he’s staying in public territory…’ Ron shrugged. ‘I know, he’s digging into whatever his father was digging into. _I_ _’m_ not the one who needs appeasing.’ He sighed. ‘Fathers and sons, hey?’ 

‘I thought Hugo was doing fine?’ 

‘He is!’ Ron beamed. ‘Captained Gryffindor to another Slytherin defeat -’ 

‘I’m going in.’ Albus stood, trying to not grin. ‘Angry Dad will be better than this -’ 

‘You’re assuming he won’t crow about it, too!’ Ron called out as Albus rapped on the door and let himself into his father’s office. 

Harry had papers strewn about his desk, papers he pushed to one side when he saw Albus. For once, he didn’t look tired, worn, or angry. ‘What am I crowing about?’ 

‘Quidditch. Gryffindor. Slytherin.’ 

Harry lifted his hands. ‘I was _thrilled_ when you guys won the Cup in your fourth year. I was really proud of you.’ 

Albus tried to not feel reassured about a victory some five years old, even if he’d felt guilty for beating his own brother, his cousins, with the best friend his family had never been thrilled by. He was supposed to be past these everyday disappointments. He sat down. ‘I imagine you’re not thrilled with me right now.’ 

Harry’s expression turned guarded. ‘What makes you think that?’ 

The fuzzy reassurance died when Albus remembered there were lots of reasons his father might not be happy with him. ‘I was specifically referring to Scorpius.’ 

‘That’s his choice. Not yours.’ 

‘Not exactly.’ Albus’ lips thinned. ‘We want to conduct our own investigations, and while we’re not in the habit of keeping the IMC or the MLE informed, I’d rather make sure none of us get arrested.’ 

‘Which “we”? No, don’t answer that - you mean the Five.’ 

‘Really, I don’t know why they call us the Hogwarts Five. Methuselah died, Matthias was never in the Phlegethon team, and none of us are still at Hogwarts.’ 

Harry’s gaze cut like jade gems, unwavering. ‘What are you investigating?’ 

‘Scorpius is looking into what his father was researching. Family history, Draco seems to have taken an interest in it. We don’t know why, but you can’t argue that Scorpius isn’t the best equipped to look into it. But he wants me to look at the trail for Draco himself.’ 

‘Telling me this is - I can’t clamp down on one set of vigilantes but indulge another -’ 

‘Right now, we’re not taking anything into our own hands. We’re just researching things. We’ve not fought anyone, we have no _plans_ on fighting anyone…’ 

‘Except looking into Draco Malfoy will probably lead to the Council. To Thornweavers who’ll try to kill you.’ 

Albus met his gaze, calm, level. ‘They probably will.’ 

Harry stared at him for a moment, then made a low noise of upset. ‘I appreciate you bringing this to me, but it puts me in an awkward position -’ 

‘And if I lied to you, you’d yell at me when it came out. And this isn’t explicitly why I’m here.’ 

‘Then why _are_ you here, Al, other than to make my life difficult -’ 

Albus exploded to his feet. ‘ _Make_? Dad, I have made so many decisions these past years for a whole menagerie of reasons. Not only have almost _none_ of them been because of you, even _fewer_ have been to piss you off, so will you, for _once_ , stop looking at everything everyone does as an attack on you?’ 

Harry frowned as he rose. ‘I am the Head of the Auror Office, and right now we are one of _the_ most professional law enforcement bodies in the _world_. I have to worry not just about Britain, because we take the lead on any international task forces which spring up, like America, like -’ 

‘Yes, Dad, you’re _very_ competent, so perhaps you can trust that maybe other people are competent? That just because we see things differently to you, we’re not liabilities? That maybe Gabriel Doyle can conduct his own war on the Council without being a threat -’ 

‘I’m not talking about Gabriel Doyle; I will _not_ discuss that, and we’re talking about me and you -’ 

‘It’s all the same thing, Dad! You are _so_ screwed up by being afraid that anything not _immediately_ under your control will go wrong that you just _can_ _’t_ conceive of trusting it! Me! Doyle! Scorpius!’ Albus’ chest heaved with the truths bursting past him. ‘And even if I come to you, now, _needing_ you, you’re too damned pent up with your _own_ tunnel vision!’ 

Harry flinched as if struck, then his expression closed up, and long, thudding heartbeats passed where the two Potter men stared at each other. At long last, Harry dropped his gaze. ‘What did you need?’ 

His voice had dropped, and Albus knew his father, knew _pride_ well enough to know that he’d get no answer to his accusations right away. Albus thinned his lips. ‘I wanted to ask your advice, believe it or not.’ 

‘I won’t tell you how to conduct your extra-legal -’ 

‘It’s not _about_ that. It’s not practical advice. No offence, Dad, but I know what I’m doing in the field.’ Albus let out a long breath through his nose. ‘It’s about forgiveness.’ 

Harry’s expression sank. ‘I’m not blaming you -’ 

‘Not _me_.’ _But thanks for jumping to that conclusion._ Slowly, Albus took his seat again. ‘You managed to forgive a Death Eater who’d killed and tortured people and even betrayed your parents. Forgave him so much you _named_ me after him. ‘ 

His father looked nonplussed as he, too, sat. ‘The world’s done a fine job of condemning Severus Snape. Even if they know the truth, they remember what they saw better. They remember the Death Eater, they remember the Headmaster during Hogwarts’ darkest year, they remember the bullying teacher.’ 

‘Quite well, if Neville’s tales are anything to go by.’ 

‘I don’t blame or question someone who wants - no. Who _sees_ the bad in Snape.’ Harry sounded honest, but unsure where this was going. ‘Especially when it was a badness that struck them personally. I can’t disagree with the world condemning him. But there was good in there, too. Virtues and courage and people who wouldn’t be alive without him. There’s a whole world to remember him as evil. _Someone_ should remember the good.’ 

‘And you decided that someone would have to be you. And, in a way, me.’ Albus Severus Potter fiddled with his sleeve. 

His father’s expression creased. ‘I think my Mum would want that. I’m not championing him. I’m not telling the people who hate him that they’re wrong. I’m just trying to make sure the world’s remembering the whole. Because it was more complicated than we like to think.’ 

‘It always is.’ 

‘I’m not sure I’d say it’s about forgiveness,’ Harry continued. ‘But if it is, it’s much easier to forgive someone who’s gone. Once they’re gone, they can’t hurt you as much any more. But when someone’s still around, forgiveness isn’t just about past pain, is it? It’s about pain she might cause you in the future.’ 

Albus stiffened. ‘I didn’t -’ 

‘I can’t tell you what to think about Eva Saida, Al.’ Harry’s gaze turned sympathetic, and he dragged his chair around the desk so they were sat together. ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what’s _right_. I don’t think you should do anything because you think you _owe_ her it, though.’ 

Albus dropped his gaze, stared at his hands. ‘Even _I_ _’m_ not sure what I’m thinking. I thought she was someone else, Dad, I knew she’d had a hard life but I thought she’d turned _away_ from that. Only - who she turned out to be was so different and yet _not_. She weaved her lies so close to the truth…’ 

‘Lies are so much more believable when they’re honest,’ Harry sighed. ‘Did you ever see her full file?’ Albus shook his head. ‘I can let you read it. But, in summary? She’s a Muggle-born. So far as we can tell, she didn’t know she was a witch until she was found in Algiers by Prometheus Thane, who took her in, taught her, trained her - and used her in his operations as a weapon. A young girl’s easily overlooked. From when she was a teenager we’ve got reports indicating she’d been in missions with Thane which included lethal force.’ 

Albus slumped forward and scrubbed his face. ‘And as an adult she was on missions where she killed people, innocent people, yeah. I _know_ she was the one who executed - _murdered_ \- the real Lisa Delacroix. In cold blood. And I know she was the one who broke us out of Ager Sanguinis. She didn’t have to, Dad, she could have stayed with the Council, left us to rot. It would have made sense. The IMC wasn’t going to take her in - we _didn_ _’t_ take her in, she’s in a _cell_ right now - so doing that made her an enemy of both sides. All sides; she had to _lie_ to Baz for him to employ her.’ 

Harry sighed, hand coming to Albus’ shoulder. ‘You can’t deny that was incredibly brave of her.’ 

‘One thing I don’t doubt is that she is brave,’ Albus rumbled. ‘Breaking us out of Ager Sanguinis. Holding off a swathe of spirits on Cat Island while we got the Chalice. Coming to rescue us on Brillig when she had to fight through a horde of Inferi. I could consider the last two were just doing her job…’ 

‘But Ager Sanguinis makes it harder to be cynical.’ 

‘And rescuing Selena. Maybe she knew Baz wouldn’t take her back, but she didn’t have to help us. And… and she didn’t have to surrender in Saint Annard.’ Albus’ shoulders hunched in. ‘This could mean her death, or the Kiss…’ 

‘Knowing all she’s done, or a lot of what she’s done, you don’t think she deserves that?’ Harry’s voice was gentle, without inference. 

Bile rose in Albus’ throat, and he braced his elbows on the desk, looked away. ‘No,’ he croaked at last. ‘No, no, I can’t think she deserves it. I’d be dead without her, Dad; I think we’d _all_ be dead without her, several times over. But then I think about the people she killed, and I think they’ll have loved ones who broke just as badly as losing Scorpius broke me, and I know when I was at my lowest I would have wrung Joachim Raskoph’s throat without a second thought -’ 

‘And there is a reason why victims and their loved ones don’t get to pass judgement. All they can see is their pain, when there’s a bigger picture to judgement.’ 

‘But it’s _not_ a set of scales. Lisa Delacroix’s family doesn’t grieve any less because Eva Saida saved my life later.’ 

‘No, but Albus Potter’s family doesn’t grieve, because Eva Saida saved his life.’ 

Before he knew it, Albus had hurled himself to his feet, shoulders taut, and barely aware of his father starting at the sudden, angry movement. ‘What the _hell_ am I supposed to do?’ he snapped. ‘What the _hell_ am I supposed to think? She’s a _killer_ , she’s a _murderer_ , she deserves to be _punished_ , but if I’m being _fair_ then how the _fuck_ do I overlook the good she’s done? To me, to anyone Baz helped these last two years! She _destroyed her life_ to do the right thing. How do I decide that what little she’s got left needs to be destroyed, too, because of those times she did the _wrong_ thing?’ 

‘Al…’ Harry got to his feet, hands raised. ‘You don’t have to judge this as an impartial observer. You don’t _have_ to think or feel anything specific.’ 

‘I don’t want to be a hypocrite,’ Albus growled, stalking across the office as if it would burn out the flames that had smoldered for years and, in their way, singed him worse than Scorpius’ loss ever had. ‘It would be easy, so very _easy_ to say that I forgive her for lying to me, because I can _understand_ it, and say that she made it up to me with _changing_ , with, when she had the _choice_ , choosing the right thing…’ 

‘Is that what you feel?’ said Harry. ‘Because I don’t think you’re wrong to say that. Your other namesake once told me that it is our choices that show us who we really are. I don’t know how much choice she _really_ had raised under the shadow of Prometheus Thane. And she still _changed_ later. Do you know why?’ 

Albus stopped, spine stiffening, and he glared at the map on the wall like it had personally offended him. When he spoke, his voice was still that low croak. ‘Me,’ he said at last. ‘Because I tried to help her. Because I made her believe she _could_ be a better person.’ 

Harry gave a slow, measured nod. ‘I’d say,’ he said quietly, ‘that you were right.’ Albus half-turned, but Harry was crossing the office to grasp his shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you what to do. I don’t think condemning her would be _wrong_. But condemnation is easy and it is also _safe_. To trust someone to be better, to have faith that they can be better? That’s a million miles from safe, that belief, that compassion. And I get that you put trust in her and feel like she broke it, and if you never wanted to see her again for that betrayal, not a person in the world and _least_ of all me, would blame you.’ 

Albus’ jaw tightened. ‘There’s a “but” coming.’ 

‘I never had to do this. I only had to forgive people who were long gone, think well of people who couldn’t hurt me any more. My perspective hurts nobody. It’s safe.’ Harry sighed. ‘But to believe in her, and to be right? To turn something broken, hurt, cruel, into something good? I think that forgiveness, when it finds its mark, when it _heals_ , is better than a thousand condemnations of evil.’ He paused, gaze on Albus, studying every inch of his expression. ‘But all of this - these higher questions, these moral questions which will torment man and wizard for thousands of years to come, are all irrelevant compared to one question: how do you feel about her? You don’t have to be a judge, looking at a bigger picture. You’re a man so close to this that your emotions can’t be dismissed.’ 

‘I…’ Albus’ voice trailed off, and he looked away. ‘Her rotting away forever, or getting the Kiss, it doesn’t - I once thought that was what I wanted. Now the thought makes me feel sick. The thought of hurting her, or her being hurt, makes me sick.’ 

Harry nodded, watching him a moment more. ‘I’m sorry she hurt you, Al. I have no idea what it’s like. Not to be betrayed like _that_.’ 

Al’s eyes slammed shut. Never in his life had he contemplated discussing this with his father, but now he wasn’t sure if he could discuss it with _anyone_ , despite the honesty of his conversation with Rose last night. ‘I think I loved her, Dad,’ he croaked. ‘And I’m only using the past tense because that’s _safe_.’ 

Then both his father’s hands were on his shoulders, grip tight, and still Albus didn’t look at him. ‘I do trust you,’ Harry said roughly. ‘And so I’ll trust Rose, and even Scorpius, and the others. Gabriel Doyle’s out of my hands, now; the Minister’s office is looking into him. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt if you just don’t… don’t hide from me. We can do some of this together, yeah?’ 

Albus turned to face him, and his smile felt like it creaked with anxiety. ‘Yeah. Yeah, Dad, that sounds… we’ll try, yeah?’ 

He managed to sound honest, not awkward, but still his father sighed. ‘You used to be so full of hope. Belief in the world, determined in what was good.’ 

‘Someone told me, once, that it’s not true bravery if you’ve not known true loss. It’s easy to be courageous, it’s easy to champion goodness, when you’ve no idea of the true price of failure.’ 

‘Maybe I’m biased,’ said Harry, ‘because a father always sees the best in his children. But I think you sell yourself short if you think you’ve not been a great man in the past. If you think you’re _still_ not a great man. You’ve got a big heart, Al. Don’t treat it like a weakness.’ 

Albus opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say - then there was a clatter at the door and Ron burst in, short of breath, hair wild. ‘We got a problem.’ 

Harry turned sharply, expression now cool, calm, professional. ‘Explain.’ 

‘Council takeover,’ Ron reported, voice ragged. ‘Greece. They’ve fallen.’

* * 

‘It’s not _that_ much longer than a Portkey,’ said Scorpius as they ducked through the barrier out of Muggle King’s Cross Station and onto Platform Six and One-Sixth. ‘I mean, sure, it’s an overnight train -’ 

‘Considering a Portkey is instantaneous, it’s considerably longer.’ Rose was doing that thing he knew so well, because she’d done it all the time when they’d been enemies: not looking at him when she spoke. There was also, he thought, the slightest hint of condescension, and with a sigh he wondered if he was going to get the cold treatment the entire journey. That should not have been his biggest problem. They had to make it to Switzerland to hunt clues about his errant ancestor which might lead to difficult truths about the Council of Thorns, and the clock was ticking. And yet the thought of Rose being angry or upset with him, beyond the natural bewilderment surrounding his resurrection, made him feel like crap. 

‘Yes, but you _can_ _’t_ Portkey to Niemandhorn,’ he pointed out, more testy than he meant to be. ‘So that’s that.’ 

Rose tilted her nose in the air as they wound through the crowds of passengers. ‘Does the Ministry know you’re travelling?’ 

‘I told your father. Yes. Considering that we’re going to the centre of IMC activity, which is going to be positively _crawling_ with security, he didn’t seem worried.’ 

She sniffed. ‘He wouldn’t.’ 

Scorpius kept his mouth shut as they reached the train doors until they’d passed their tickets to the conductor. ‘If you think I actually _need_ security oversight, then why are you bloody here with me?’ 

She stared at him for a moment, then followed him on board. ‘I don’t,’ she said at last. ‘I’m just worried about what the Auror Office does and doesn’t have time for.’ 

‘Yeah, well, that’s why we’re taking matters into our own hands,’ he muttered, winding down the corridor. ‘Your dad’s keeping an eye on me because formally he’s charged with the hunt for my father. But he blatantly can’t make any bloody headway with that when the Aurors are going to go apeshit over Greece.’ 

‘Weakening the Council’s hold over an entire nation is a bit more important than one man.’ 

‘I’m not disagreeing with that -’ He stopped himself. The old habit of arguing her was, it seemed, set into his bones just as deeply as more affectionate impulses. He looked at the next door they came to, and sighed with relief. ‘Oh, here we are.’ As this was an overnight train, they couldn’t see into the compartments from the corridor, which made sense as soon as Scorpius gave it half a moment’s thought. But he’d _not_ been thinking - not now, and not when booking the tickets, so they both stared at the small room. And its two bunks. 

‘So I guess I’m next door,’ said Rose after a moment. 

He stood in the middle of the cramped room, looked at the tickets, and said, ‘Um.’ 

She raised her eyebrows. ‘So I guess we’re sharing a compartment and what were you _thinking_?’ 

Scorpius waved the tickets wildly in the air. ‘Would you believe that I didn’t look, just blindly threw money at the problem?’ 

‘Of course you did! Of course that’s what happened! Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t think, Scorpius Malfoy just enjoys the finer things in life and his own whims!’ 

That took extra effort to not rise to. ‘This wasn’t a whim, this was our only bloody means of transport to Niemandhorn - and you volunteered to come with me on this trip! Insisted on it!’ Or maybe he _was_ going to rise to it. 

‘Well, yes, but that was before I realised my presence was getting in the way of your indulgent life! Going out with - with _men_ while I’m…’ 

But she stopped herself and they stood in the narrow compartment for a moment, facing off. It was the first opportunity he’d had since coming back to properly look at her. The rest had been stolen glances or guilty eye-contact, because even looking at her felt like he was plunging a fresh knife into his heart. 

She looked older. Not just in terms of two years; her face was more drawn, her brown eyes more sunken. Once, she’d let her shining red hair fall loose, satisfied with tying it back only in times which demanded practicality, otherwise prepared to battle with errant locks that were only more cooperative than her mother’s because there were herds of rampaging wildebeest more cooperative than Hermione Granger’s hair. But now the tight braid was the hairstyle for every day, and rarely did her eyes light up with curiosity or amusement or the fire he’d once loved provoking, her lips reduced to a thin, emotionless line. 

He remembered her as a girl of passion and gold, but now he studied a woman of ice and steel. 

_You. You did this, and if you_ _’re a fool, you’ll just do it again._   
  
‘I’m going to the bar,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘You can get changed, or unwind, or whatever. I’ll try to crash in one of the communal spaces on board, so we can see each other as _little_ as possible this entire bloody trip.’ 

And before she could answer, he’d turned on his heel and left the compartment, trying to not think about how going on a train trip with Rose Weasley was so much like old times it could choke him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Recent canon mentions other magic platforms at King’s Cross, including ones for international trains. Platform Six and One-Sixth is just a blatant Marvel reference; ‘Earth 616’ is the designation for the main/real reality in the Marvel superhero comics continuity._


	21. Love Most, Say Least

The Muggles had built the Gare d’Orsay over a hundred years ago, one of the latest stations built in Paris to play hub to the blossoming rail network. Wizards, as ever a little behind the curve on technology, had taken the fifty or so years of industrial development before they’d seen the merit of trains, and slipped their way into the building process to make sure another station was constructed alongside the Muggle works, deep underground. 

The magical station had outlived its Muggle counterpart. No wizard cared if a station’s platform was too short; space, especially when folding space in the inner workings of one of the busiest cities of Europe was a common, simple for professional enchanters. So while the Niemandhorn Express started from London, within four hours it was pulling up in Paris. More passengers swarmed aboard, government officials and specialists in certain fields and the odd journalist, all winding their way to the new beating heart of the magical world: Niemandhorn Castle itself. 

If the trip from London had felt to Rose like being back on the Hogwarts Express, then this felt like being on a rattling train dragging her from Athens to Aleppo to find Ager Sanguinis. Not that the Niemandhorn Express was anything like that run-down Muggle contraption. It was a handsome steam train, the carriage interiors all polished dark wood and imperial blue furnishings, keeping her in the lap of luxury while she sat alone in the shared compartment and stewed. 

Walking in on Scorpius and John had been bad enough, an image which flared in front of her whenever she blinked and brought awkward jealousy and blossoming guilt. But now there was an overnight train to Switzerland, and this had her heart thudding in her chest. Not just because of sharing a room, but when arguing, what would have once been familiar irritation ballooned into anger and regret. Bickering felt so close to flirting felt so close to tumbling into his arms, and she still felt cold where Matt had pulled away. But Scorpius was right about one thing: she _had_ volunteered for this expedition. So she reached deep into herself, sought cold logic over her feelings, and found them worryingly in sync. 

Eventually she left the compartment and headed down the train. Paris and the fat gold of a setting sun swished past the windows when she reached her destination, the warm woods of the bar lit by low-hanging lamps. A mellow, jazzy tune drifted from a polished black piano playing itself as she walked to the counter and slid onto a stool next to her target. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I did volunteer for this job. Insist on it, in fact. So it’s silly for me to act like a brat, like us being in the same place is impossible.’ 

Scorpius had rolled up his shirt sleeves to show skin tanned and worn from long, hard labour outdoors. A new scar ran along his left forearm, and she idly wondered how much the parts of him out of sight had been changed and marked, too. A glass of Firewhiskey was in one hand, and he swirled it as she talked, ice clinking before he had a sip. ‘You need an apéritif,’ was all he said. 

Rose hesitated. She wasn’t in the habit of drinking alcohol to deal with problems. It sounded like an addictive solution when her problems never stopped. ‘Uh. Not ouzo.’ She didn’t need to think of Kythos right now. 

‘This is a train from France to Switzerland,’ said Scorpius wryly. ‘I’d have to go out of my way to order something Greek. We can go Italian. Campari?’ 

She’d drunk Campari on a balcony in Monaco with Matt and Alfonse Guerrier, who’d been murdered by Raskoph. There was probably no drink she couldn’t associate with something horrific, so it was as good a suggestion as any. 

‘You might have volunteered for this,’ he continued once the lowball glass of reds and oranges was in front of her, ‘but it wasn’t a binding contract. This probably wasn’t a good idea anyway -’ 

‘You going on your own isn’t a good idea.’ 

‘I’m going to one of the most secure places in the world -’ 

‘Niemandhorn Castle might be safe. Sure, it’s the old headquarters of the Magical Alliance from the Grindelwald Wars. Sure, Lillian Rourke’s making it the new centre of operations for the IMC, which is a bloody political move if ever I heard one. But -’ 

‘It’s a wizarding castle that’s never fallen, with protections that make Hogwarts look like a holiday home. It’s not like I’m hurling myself into the abyss.’ 

_Again_. Rose sipped her drink. ‘I’m not worried about Niemandhorn. I’m worried about what Niemandhorn leads to. If there’s valuable information to be found, it won’t be easy and it won’t be safe.’ 

‘I can take care of myself.’ 

Her drink came down with a _clunk_. ‘How about we leave safety calls to the one of us who hasn’t _died_?’ He looked abashed, and she didn’t know if she should feel guilty or angry, so she pressed on, breezing past her feelings. It was an unfamiliar sensation. She wasn’t used to having feelings to breeze past. ‘Besides, if there’s a puzzle here, if there are secrets here, you shouldn’t have to face them alone. Even if all I am is an extra pair of eyes to look at a problem with you. And you were never the one for figuring out puzzles.’ 

‘I was a master at the Ravenclaw Tower riddles.’ Scorpius stuck his nose in the air. 

‘You were an obstinate bastard at the Ravenclaw Tower riddles.’ 

‘And that was the solution. You had to accept the premise that the question was out to _get_ you. It wasn’t about figuring out the logic, it was about finding the trap.’ 

‘Not everything’s a trap.’ 

‘My experience,’ said Scorpius, finishing his whiskey, ‘says otherwise.’ He tilted the glass in front of him, watched the low, golden lights of the bar refract through the cuttings, and sighed. ‘I really am glad you’re okay.’ 

Rose blinked. ‘What?’ 

‘You and Matt - I’m not bitter, I didn’t…’ Scorpius groaned. ‘Nobody wants to be forgotten when they’re gone, but you languishing in misery forever? I didn’t want that. I don’t want that. So - I might be horribly out of line, but I just thought I should say it. I’m glad you two found each other.’ 

It hadn’t been a _conscious_ choice to not tell Scorpius about the breakup. Just with everything, she’d not got around to it. Now Rose was staring at the opportunity, it felt too on the nose an admission, too raw and too open to possibilities which were, right then, beyond contemplation. She needed to find her feet before she could find a path. So, instead, she had a swig of her drink. ‘I’m sorry I made this morning awkward. With John.’ 

‘Oh.’ His brow furrowed. ‘That wasn’t - he wasn’t going to stick around -’ 

‘It’s really none of my business -’ 

‘I was lonely and he was good company and - and it was a one-off thing,’ Scorpius blurted. 

_Good_ , came Rose’s treacherous thought. Instead she said, ‘You’re entitled to do whatever you like with whomever you like and you certainly don’t need to justify it to me.’ 

‘No, but I want to explain it. I owe you at least that much.’ 

He sounded guilty, like he owed her more. She remembered the game of chess in his mind, the rook he never let her take. Trying to forget, she sipped her drink. ‘I really _shouldn_ _’t_ be surprised you went and had a fling with a pretty boy, should I.’ She couldn’t keep the wryness out of her voice. 

‘And I thought I was so _discreet_ when I flirted with anything that stood still long enough,’ came his dry response. 

‘Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think John would be your type, but I suppose the two of you can run around being sardonic at everything.’ 

‘Albus was surprised.’ 

‘Albus is shockingly oblivious to some things.’ 

‘I reckon I offended him.’ 

‘Well, yes. It’s not like I never had this paranoid wondering that you two would run off together.’ 

Scorpius goggled. ‘Are you - seriously, woman, are you just trying to make my life the most complicated thing it could ever be?’ 

She tried, and failed, to smother a grin. ‘Oh, because _that_ _’s_ too much. I’m whisking to the centre of IMC politics with my resurrected ex-boyfriend to look into the secret life of his mysterious ancestor and how that maybe connects to the deranged Nazi dark wizard who wants to take over the world. But pointing out you and Albus are occasionally dangerously and, let’s face it, homo-erotically codependent is the bridge too far?’ 

He was staring at her, staring more than her joke demanded, and again her heart was thudding in her chest, because there was no way a normal conversation could be a normal conversation between them. Not any more. 

On the edges, everything felt like they were just two people with a connection, sat in a bar having a drink and a chat and a reminisce. But on the inside she could feel all that she couldn’t say and couldn’t think, and all she didn’t want to think, like the feelings she’d admitted to Albus, like the secrets he was locking away, like the fact he’d hidden his survival from her for months on end, months in which he’d tortured and murdered at least one man because of a cause that had killed him in the first place - 

‘So I got some more information on Cassian Malfoy,’ he blurted after the long silence. 

She paused to watch him, then sipped her drink. ‘I did think it was odd you weren’t familiar with him.’ 

‘Believe it or not, I wasn’t very interested in pleasing my father by memorising the family tree. And he’s one of the more inauspicious branches. Stumps.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t get how he’s anyone of _any_ significance to Raskoph or the Council. He was my great-grandfather Abraxas’ younger brother. The letters and records I found at the Manor paint a picture of Cassian as a wastrel, a rake, a disappointment to his family and his father who left Hogwarts and spent three years, not the traditional one, on his world travels. When he came back, he took an underpaid job as a talent spotter for the Falmouth Falcons, spending most of his time in Europe. Living the high life off the family funds, doing whatever he liked, or so Abraxas wrote. He lost his job with the Falcons when the Grindelwald War broke out. He spent a bit of time in America, but then went on a magic _safari_. Africa. And didn’t come back when the war ended. He died out there; records list him as perishing in a hunting accident on the Maasai Mara. What?’ 

She’d failed to hide the slightest nose-wrinkle. ‘Nothing.’ 

‘You’ve got a thought. You did that -’ His gaze flickered across her face. ‘There was a thought.’ 

‘Knowing your ancestors would paint any behaviour they considered inappropriate for a _scion of House Malfoy_ in the _worst_ possible light… I don’t know. Quidditch fan, cared little for what his family thought.’ Rose sighed, and sipped her drink. ‘I thought he sounds a bit like you.’

* * 

‘How have you been filling your time in here?’ 

‘There are five hundred and fifty-three bricks in this ceiling.’ Eva sat up from her bunk to peer through the bars at Albus. ‘I wasn’t sure I’d see you here again.’ 

‘I wasn’t sure I’d be back.’ He’d aged more than two years since Scorpius’ death, in more than just mind and heart. His face was harder, any youthful roundness gone, more shadows cast across it by his longer hair. But it was his eyes that had changed the most and yet the least, staring at her with a coldness that could not hide the apprehension underneath. She didn’t know what it meant. ‘Don’t they give you books to read?’ 

‘They have. I’m not much of a reader.’ She gripped the edge of the bunk, forcing her voice to stay level. 

‘I would have thought there’d be a lot of waiting around in mercenary work.’ 

‘There is. And prep-work for jobs, so I _study_. I wouldn’t have known how to beat those spirits on Cat Island otherwise.’ His expression flickered, and she looked down. She didn’t want him to think she was cashing in favours. ‘But I read magic theory when there’s a practical goal. And my life is far, far stranger than fiction.’ 

‘You could read something ordinary.’ 

‘Oh, yes. “ _Anita Bleasworth is twenty years old, works a job she hates, and her boyfriend just left her. But when mysterious and/or rich hunk Hypotenuse Bunk walks into her life, will she realise her true feelings before he slips through her grasp?_ ” I think it’s a story that would really speak to me.’ 

He clearly didn’t want to laugh as much as he did. ‘ _Hypotenuse Bunk_?’ 

‘I’ve met a Hypotenuse. Greek pureblood. Obviously hated by his parents.’ 

His lips thinned to a hard, awkward line. ‘You’re wondering why I’m here.’ 

‘I am. I accept you might not know the answer. I can’t say anything to make this easier, if that’s what you came for.’ 

‘It’s not.’ He didn’t tear his eyes off his hand, resting on the bars. ‘You’re familiar with the way law enforcement’s worked with civilians these past two years. Giving people of certain skills and affiliations a quasi-legal status. Protection under the law, support and resources, in return for duties performed. Both in fighting the Council and to reinforce everyday peacekeeping.’ 

‘It’s the deal Baz has with the Russian Federation and then the IMC as a whole. He likes to refer to himself as a civilian contractor when he’s being facetious.’ 

Oddly, Albus brightened, though his frown didn’t fade. ‘That’s a good way of looking at it. You were once protected by such a deal, because you worked for Baz.’ 

‘If you’re trying to find me a way out, I don’t understand why, but Baz will never -’ 

‘The Department of Magical Law Enforcement would like to offer you such a contract. You will receive amnesty for all crimes committed in the past until hostilities with the Council of Thorns end. In return, you will lend your expertise and experience to the war effort. The DMLE will take this into consideration upon your trial and sentencing.’ 

Eva narrowed her eyes. ‘What do they need me for?’ 

‘I assume you’ve heard what’s happening in Greece. If the Auror Office was stretched thin before, it’s translucent in places now. The hunt for Draco Malfoy’s fallen by the wayside, but he needs to be found. He’ll know more than anyone about Council influence in Britain, not to mention their wider plans. But he could be anywhere in the world right now.’ 

‘And why are _you_ offering me this?’ 

Albus dragged his gaze up to meet hers. ‘Because I was going to look for Draco Malfoy anyway, only for once I get to do work like this _with_ the authorities. And I can’t do this alone.’ 

‘What about the others?’ 

‘Scorpius has his own enquiries to chase up. Rose is with him. Matt’s not fighting fit and this isn’t where Selena’s strengths lie. If Draco Malfoy’s gone to ground under a Council nest, then I need someone _professional_ , and while I can call in a squadof Aurors if I get a lead, getting that intel in the first place is going to be dangerous.’ 

Eva pursed her lips and tried to think through the hammering of her heart. Then she stood and approached the bars. She didn’t know if she should take it as a good sign when Albus flinched. ‘If I’m going to do this, then I need to know a few things.’ 

‘You get to be _not_ in jail -’ 

‘Are you still going to think about killing me?’ 

His eyes widened. ‘Of course not -’ 

‘Don’t “of course” me, like you’d never think about it. You _threatened_ it in Rotterdam, you thought about it on the _Naglfar_. I saw it in your eyes.’ 

He looked away. ‘I was angry then.’ 

‘And now Scorpius is alive, you’re suddenly, what, all better? Two years of loneliness and pain don’t disappear overnight. You might _feel_ better. But that’s a million miles away from everything being okay.’ 

There was a furious flash in deep green when his gaze snapped back to her. It hurt to be right, often. ‘Like I said, you get to _not_ rot in jail, you get to fight, to make yourself useful, to even earn your way out of prison -’ 

‘And all that proves is how justice is a system to be played. Nobody I’ve murdered is less dead because I’m _less_ bad now.’ She jerked her chin up an inch. ‘I won’t do this if I’m watching my back all the time. That will get us _both_ killed. Even when I was a mercenary, I only took jobs with people I trusted to look out for me. The last thing I need is for you to remember you promised to kill me.’ 

‘I wouldn’t be here,’ said Albus in a low, firm voice, ‘if I still wanted to kill you. And you don’t need to remind me that the last two years happened. When the _hell_ did you become this zen adviser?’ 

‘Changing yourself,’ said Eva simply, ‘takes being honest with yourself. If you think everything’s okay now, you’re _lying_ to yourself.’ 

‘I didn’t say everything was okay! But Draco Malfoy needs finding; Matt needs him found, _Scorpius_ needs him found -’ 

‘And so you’ll do it for Scorpius, everything for Scorpius. He’s back, so you don’t hate the world any more, so you don’t hate _me_ any more, so you’ll even work _with_ me, because Scorpius needs you to. Do you even _know_ why Scorpius, for whom you’d do _anything_ , let you think he was still dead for _eight months_? Worked with the man who turned me into a weapon, who plagued Hogwarts and let people die, who murdered dozens of people to chase the Chalice, who almost killed _you_ in Portugal? And before you try to turn this on me, I can _promise_ you that Prometheus Thane does _not_ regret the things he’s done.’ 

Albus’ jaw was tight. ‘I don’t think what Scorpius is or isn’t saying has anything to do with you and me -’ 

‘What do you do when your trust’s broken _again_ -’ 

‘It _won_ _’t be_!’ Hands slammed on the bars, the rattle deafening with his shout. ‘Not with him, _never_ with him, and don’t you _dare_ make out like he’s like _you_ -’ 

‘There it is,’ she snapped, forcing herself to keep his gaze. ‘Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, Al. What is it; you accept I helped you, that I didn’t betray you? You accept that I’ve been trying to change, so you think you shouldn’t feel _personally_ hurt? I lied to you. I even, for a little time, manipulated you. I might not be the devil you told yourself I was, but I _hurt_ you.’ 

‘I thought you said you wouldn’t work with me if you thought I’d turn on you -’ 

‘I worked with Elijah Downing for several years, and he and I _despised_ one another. But I still trusted him to have my back when we did a job. He even trusted me the same way, right up until I stabbed him. If you’re still hissing and spitting and growling at me, if you’re that blinded by pain, I won’t work with you. But I don’t need you pretending everything’s alright, only to snap like this when pushed.’ 

Anger fled from his shoulders, his expression sagging like it was dragged down by his burdens. ‘You could be out of here already.’ 

Eva swallowed. ‘Before I came to your flat in Moscow,’ she said, voice low, ‘I told myself that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.’ 

His gaze flicked up to meet hers. ‘You are _maddening_.’ 

‘If it’s any consolation, my life made perfect sense to me until I met _you_.’ 

He drummed his fingers on the bars and drew an apprehensive breath. ‘You think Scorpius is lying?’ 

It was like he’d break if he more than whispered the doubt, and her heart was tight in her chest as she watched him. Before she knew it, her hand came up, brushing against his. ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘I think there’s more than you know. Maybe he thinks he’s speaking the truth, and Prometheus really _has_ got under his skin. He does that.’ 

Albus’ expression twisted. ‘I wish I were with him. But he needs his father found, and he _gave_ me this responsibility. Asked me to do it, because he trusts me. I have to do this for him; I _have_ to.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Will you help me?’ 

A part of her wondered if her cell would be safer. But Eva had lived her life for ruthless efficiency and she’d lived it for bitter regret; never had she lived it for _safety_. She wasn’t going to start now. ‘I’ll take the deal. I’ll toe the party line. And I’ll help you.’ 

He stared at her hand resting atop his, and when he pulled back it was a slow withdrawal, not a jerky escape. ‘Okay. I’ll go tell them, I just - I had to be the one to ask you.’ 

She nodded and he left, and then she was alone once again in the dripping cell in the belly of the DMLE Headquarters. She paced it once more, as she’d done a hundred times before; sat on the bench and counted the bricks overhead again for old time’s sake, and she was halfway through before there were fresh footsteps from the corridor. 

Eva Saida had never properly met Harry Potter. He’d been front-and-centre when they’d returned to Britain from Saint Annard, but he’d barely looked at her. Orders had been given and the Enforcers had taken her away to this cell, and they had never so much as exchanged words. But he was a hero of near-legend and he was Albus’ father and he was the reason she hadn’t been shipped off for a Dementor’s Kiss in France, and she wasn’t sure which of these made her more apprehensive to look at him. 

‘Ms Saida.’ He extended a roll of parchment and a quill through the bars. ‘You’ll want to read this and sign it.’ 

She took both, unrolling the paper and seeing the same standard agreement Baz had dealt with. She read it anyway, just to be sure. It was easier than looking at him. ‘This all seems in order,’ she said at last, and left her mark. 

‘Note the paragraph which states that if you do not hand yourself into custody at the official end of hostilities or termination of this contract, upon your apprehension you will be prosecuted to the _fullest_ extent of the law. Regardless of any services rendered.’ 

_Who in the world ever ran away thinking they_ _’d get caught?_ But this wasn’t the time to be sardonic. She rolled the parchment again and returned it. ‘I’ve worked under these terms for Balthazar Vadimas the past two years. I have no problem with the same deal.’ 

Harry Potter’s expression was tense, set, and colder even than his son’s in the grips of his greatest anger. ‘You and I both know this is _not_ the same deal.’ 

‘I handed myself in. I know what I’m getting into.’ 

‘You’re being trusted because Albus trusts you, in this at least. I accept and recognise you’ve helped my family…’ Harry’s voice trailed off, and his jaw clenched. ‘I will not see them hurt again. Do you understand?’ 

‘If you’re talking about my personal choices regarding your son, or even your niece, I have no intention of lying. If you’re talking about the dangers of the world, I will fight alongside your son and I will protect him to the best of my ability, but you know as well as I do that nothing guarantees safety. Not staying at home in a metal box, and certainly not hunting down Thornweavers.’ 

His eyes narrowed, those green eyes so piercingly like his son’s. ‘I don’t need a lecture on risks -’ 

‘No, sir, I know you don’t. And you know that personal safety at all costs comes at the expense of the safety of _others_.’ It had always, Eva reflected, been easier to kill a possible threat. Then they definitely couldn’t hurt you. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I would die to keep your son safe.’ 

Harry hesitated. ‘Why?’ 

‘I’m not sure you need me to go into great detail, sir.’ Somehow, this was easier; somehow, she could keep this like a debriefing from a tense employer. Brisk, professional. ‘But in ten years, your son will ideally be living a normal, happy, healthy life. The same can’t be said for me.’ 

Harry Potter stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed, and flicked his wand at the cell lock. ‘You’ll make regular reports to Auror-Captain Weasley,’ he said, and the tension of the moment broke. Now this really _was_ just work. ‘Albus can make those reports, but if for some reason he doesn’t, that will fall to you. We will keep you both updated with any news we find about Draco Malfoy’s circumstances and whereabouts. If you’re in need of backup, we’ll provide what help we can. If you find the man, you have the authority to apprehend him, but you have to bring him in to the nearest appropriate authorities as soon as possible.’ 

Eva nodded, following Harry out of the winding maze of the DMLE HQ’s cell block. ‘I assume “appropriate” authorities means we can hang onto him if we suspect the locals to be corrupt?’ 

‘If you need to keep him trussed up in a bloody trunk all the way between Australia and this office, then you do that.’ 

They climbed the stairs in silence, and it was only when she heard the humming of an office, the sound of people and life and _normalcy_ , that something stuck in her throat. ‘Sir -’ He stopped on the steps and looked back at her, brow furrowing. ‘I should thank you. I’m aware France wanted me extradited for trial, and I’m aware how that trial would end.’ 

His expression remained impassive. ‘It’s not British policy to allow prisoner extradition if a conviction will result in the Kiss. We’ve had to play politics during the years of the IMC, but you weren’t worth anyone rocking the boat for.’ Then he hesitated, and frowned at a spot over her head. ‘You rescued my son and niece in Ager Sanguinis. You helped them in Rotterdam and France. I know this is a big, complicated world, but I have no problem showing _this_ kind of mercy. And the last thing I need is another reason for Albus to hate me.’ A muscle in the corner of his jaw flickered, and now he met her gaze, still cold. ‘If you betray his trust again, you won’t _need_ a Dementor’s Kiss.’ 

Eva was entirely accustomed to being threatened. But even the threats of Albus at his most furious, or Joachim Raskoph at his most psychotic, had not thudded into her as hard as Harry Potter’s. She swallowed hard. ‘I understand, sir.’ 

This wasn’t dignified by an answer, and Harry led her up through the corridors of the DMLE, then out into the open office of the Auror Division. She could see Albus sat by a desk in the corner, manned by a red-haired man she recognised as Rose’s father, and it was to there that Harry led her, straight-backed, ignoring the eyes of all present that fell upon them. 

Albus shot to his feet the moment they got there. ‘So, paperwork’s… done?’ 

‘It’s done.’ Harry tossed the parchment to Ron Weasley. ‘You have your consultants.’ 

Ron gave her a dubious look. ‘Welcome aboard. For the record, I hate working with civilians.’ 

‘It’s not my habit to work _with_ the law, either,’ Eva drawled before she could stop herself. 

To her surprise and relief, Ron’s lips twisted with a lopsided smile. ‘Then let’s hope we flourish out of our element, hm?’ 

Eva looked to Albus. ‘What comes now?’ 

He let out a slow breath. ‘We’ll get you settled, and then go over the case files, all the records we have, and figure out where we start in all of this.’ 

‘Great. Settled where?’ 

Albus blinked, and Ron and Harry exchanged glances behind him. ‘What?’ 

Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘Unless my assets in Russia have been unfrozen, I don’t have a knut to my name. I have no place of residence in Britain; I’ve barely _been_ here.’ 

Ron let out a slow breath. ‘Hoo, boy. Good start.’ 

‘I… didn’t think of that,’ Albus admitted. ‘Dad, can we see about her assets -’ 

‘I’ll have to make some calls to the Federation. Who won’t be thrilled about us giving Saida this deal, so they’ll drag their feet.’ Harry grimaced. ‘We can arrange some Division funds, seeing as you’ll need it for the operations _anyway_.’ 

‘That’s never a quick job,’ Ron pointed out. ‘You’d think it would be, with the Office Head, but bureaucrats are evil bastards who make Thornweavers look fluffy. No offence intended.’ 

‘Technically, they didn’t call us “Thornweavers” when I was one of them. So, no offence taken.’ 

Albus sighed. ‘I’ll put you up in a room in the Leaky Cauldron, or something; Hannah can sort that out…’ 

‘Except the Leaky Cauldron has no security set up,’ said Ron. ‘No wards, nothing. But there is one house that’s safe as… er, houses, and if it’s just one night, it _is_ an easier option. It’s just also like something out of a horror story.’ 

Eva saw Albus and Harry exchange looks, and closed her eyes. Somehow this had managed to get _worse_.

* * 

‘What’s all this?’ 

Matt jolted at the voice, so lost in his reverie of times gone by and the siren call of ancient parchments that he wasn’t ready for an interruption. His metal hand jerked and almost upended his teacup. ‘Shit -’ 

‘I’m sorry.’ Selena shut the door to the spare room behind her. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’ 

‘No, I was - I should have been paying more attention. What time is it?’ He slumped back in the chair. 

‘It’s about eleven. I was going to go to bed, I just saw the light under your door. I’ve barely seen you all day.’ She padded over and rested her hands on the edge of the table. ‘Are these the Guanahani maps?’ 

‘Yes. I’ve been going over everything we found on the hunt.’ 

‘Why?’ 

He let out a slow breath. ‘I went to see my father today. In jail.’ 

An inch of tension creaked from his back as he felt her hand at his shoulder. ‘How’d it go?’ 

‘Short. We only had five minutes. The Minister’s office is intent on nailing him to the wall, just so Minister Halvard can appear _relevant_ while your mother’s kicking international arse…’ He scrubbed his face with his good hand. ‘He fussed. I updated him. And he told me that I was, under no circumstances, to _do_ anything.’ 

‘Anything risky?’ 

‘Anything.’ Matt stared at the paper. ‘I don’t know if he’s paranoid I’ll be targeted to get to him. I don’t know if someone’s put pressure on him. But his instructions were clear. Don’t get involved. Let the IMC handle the Council.’ 

She frowned, gaze going to the papers strewn across the desk. ‘So of course you’re going over all of our old Chalice records.’ 

‘I… never looked at them before,’ he admitted. ‘We lost the Chalice. Scorpius died, and looking at it… hurt. The world was a whole lot darker without him. You should have seen us when we were together to go after you - I mean, Rose and Al and me. We needed one of the two of you, to point out just how incredibly _stupid_ we were being. Sure, he’d do it with a joke at my expense, but…’ He shook his head. ‘Looking at all this was depressing. And made me feel guilty. I got a second chance. He didn’t. Except now he -’ 

‘You’re rambling,’ Selena said gently. ‘And I don’t believe you’re just looking at this for nostalgia.’ 

He looked down again. ‘Everyone else is racing after danger. My father’s been jailed for his work. I _can_ _’t_ stand by and do nothing. I just can’t.’ 

The corners of her eyes creased. ‘I don’t want to see you throwing yourself into something to avoid thinking about Rose.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve been doing a _lot_ of thinking about Rose this past week.’ Matt ducked his head. ‘I’ve been thinking so much that I’m sick of thinking, and thinking isn’t going to change a thing any more. So if I don’t do something else, I’m just _wallowing_. Wallowing in losing her, wallowing in what a _fool_ I was to ever have her, wallowing in my father’s fate, wallowing in _this_.’ He jerked his prosthetic. 

‘It is _not_ useless for you to take time to recover.’ 

‘But my _mind_ works, Selena. Most of the world’s experts on the Chalice are dead. Nobody but Prometheus Thane bothered studying it after it was lost. Professor Lockett’s a _potioneer_. I might be the last expert in the world, after Reynald de Sablé, and I cannot, I _cannot_ do nothing!’ He brought his hand down on the table, only it was the metal one and it did knock over his teacup this time. 

He swore, but Selena grabbed it without ceremony, pity, or reproach, and when she met his gaze, her expression was calm. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘You _are_ one of the best-qualified people to work on the Chalice. So why, instead of rushing off independently like Scorpius and Rose, instead of going solo in secret like your father, don’t we go to the Ministry tomorrow and _tell_ them you’re the best man for this project?’ 

‘We?’ His brow furrowed. ‘I’m not asking you to jump on board this with me.’ 

She hesitated, but then there was conviction in her eyes. ‘We can argue this tomorrow; it’s too late for this kind of debate. I’m going to bed. Don’t you stay up too late; you need your _rest_ , and I will nag you if I must.’ 

He couldn’t suppress a small, pleased smile at her threat. Her hand brushed his shoulder, and then she was gone, leaving him with his paperwork, the throbbing in his wrist, and fading warmth. With a grimace, he disconnected the prosthetic, and set it down as a glorified paperweight. But now he could return to the world of Caribbean maps and lost ancient artifacts and not having to worry about anything more complicated than Selena’s evasion and trying to get over Rose. At least some things didn’t change. 

He was still reading when he heard the scream an hour later. 

Years of practice with the sword meant he was comfortable with his wand in his left hand. Matt flew into the corridor, weapon brandished, eyes darting about. Already there was the nervous creak of an opening door from Miranda’s room, and he lifted his stump at her. ‘Stay there!’ 

The scream had come from the other way, from Selena’s room. Matt didn’t _need_ to kick the door open, but he couldn’t use the handle without dropping his wand, and if there was a _threat_ \- 

He burst in to find no night-time attacker, no danger. Just Selena sat bolt upright, eyes wide, chest heaving with ragged breathing, bedsheets twisted around her, and he realised what had happened. 

He lowered his wand. ‘Oh.’ 

‘…did you just break the door?’ That was Miranda, padding onto the landing, braver now she’d realised they weren’t being invaded. But as she reached him she gave him a questioning look, a silent, ‘ _Are you handling this or am I?_ ’ and for the first time, Matt felt sorry for Miranda Travers, who’d woken up from Phlegethon to find she would never, ever be able to understand one of her best friends again. 

‘I’ll fix it,’ he muttered, and gestured her away as he padded into the bedroom. Repair work was not front of his thoughts. Selena was. 

She was still blinking, still getting her breathing under control. ‘Matt, I - it’s okay, I was just -’ 

‘Dreaming. I know.’ He slid his wand into his pocket and nudged the door closed, then went to the bedside and turned on the lamp. ‘Just a little something, just enough to make us all think you were being murdered.’ 

She covered her face with her hands. ‘Sorry, I didn’t -’ 

‘That was a joke.’ He hunkered down next to the bed, resting his good hand on the sheets. ‘Are you okay? Can I get you anything?’ 

‘No, no. I’m better now. I’m awake. It’s all gone.’ She was still a tight bundle, knees drawn up under her chin, and he could see the gleam of sweat. ‘You don’t need to come in and _fuss_ -’ 

‘I’m invoking veto on being told to go away,’ he said, and tried to sound wry, gentle, despite the concern humming through his veins. ‘You look like the last thing you need is to be alone.’ 

Selena looked at him at last, and only now did he see the hollow shadow in her eyes, the haunted glint. ‘Oh, you dear, stupid man,’ she breathed. ‘Didn’t you realise? I’m always alone.’ 

She said it so casually, and yet it was almost enough to knock him over. He perched on the side of the bed, closer but not yet reaching for her. ‘You’re - you’re _not_ -’ 

‘No, I’m - I’m just tired, Matt…’ 

He wasn’t convinced, but to tell her she wasn’t alone when he’d let her slip away, when they’d barely talked for months on end, felt empty. Even promises sounded empty, because they’d made them before, and even if they’d both failed them, they’d still been _broken_. So all he could manage to say, voice low and hoarse, was a gentle, ‘What did you dream?’ 

She looked away, hair falling across her face, shimmering in the low light. ‘I wasn’t surprised when it turned out they had the Chalice in Saint Annard. It _does_ things to the area, doesn’t it. I was locked up in the dark for several days. I thought it was all in my head. Maybe it was.’ Selena’s breath quavered. ‘It wasn’t a dream, Matt. Dreams aren’t real. Shadows and death and ghosts? We all know, now, that’s _real_ …’ 

She shuddered, and without thinking he’d slid across the bed to wrap his good arm around her shoulder, pull her to him, and the burst of relief when she didn’t pull back was almost palpable. With another shaking breath she curled in next to him, head on his chest, fingers tangling in his shirt. ‘You’re a stupid, stupid, dear man.’ 

‘I really am.’ 

‘But you came for me.’ The words were almost lost as they were mumbled into his side. 

‘I had to.’ 

‘But the big gestures are easy, or, I mean, easy if you don’t count losing a _hand_ …’ Her voice was tumbling over itself, dry as Selena’s arch humour always was, grieving and anguished like he’d only seen her in the darkest moments. ‘…and then we’re back in the small moments and those are the ones which break -’ 

‘They break, they do,’ he murmured into her hair, eyes slamming shut. ‘And I’m weak, and you’re weak, but we’re both here _now_ , tonight, and _tonight_ , you’re not alone.’ 

He wanted to tell her she’d never be alone, that he’d never go, but he knew how hollow the promises were, and so all he could do to ease her pain was reaffirm the present. The here and now. 

And here and now, he wasn’t going to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: You may have heard of the Gare d'Orsay as the Musée d'Orsay. It was a Parisian train station before it was a museum but fell out of use partly due to the platforms being too short. It sounded like the sort of place wizards would sneak in their own magical platform, as it was built a little later than other Parisian stations and so I figured they would by then realise 'trains are handy' and stick their oars in with the construction of a new station than shove one into the Gare de Lyons or the like._


	22. And Fame Again

Avoiding romance meant Albus had missed some of the truly awful and fundamental moments of growing up. Sure, he’d fallen madly for a woman who’d systematically lied to and manipulated him, and had for two years believed the entire relationship hollow and meaningless only to discover it was painfully more complicated than that. But he’d never had a stupid public argument about what to do on a Hogsmeade trip, he’d never had petty jealousies and irrelevant miscommunications, and he’d never had to introduce a girl to his parents before. 

But now the last was happening, only the girl was the one who’d lied to him in a very complicated way, and it was only his mother because his father had already met her when he’d let her out of prison. 

‘Mum,’ said Albus, stood in the living room at the Godric’s Hollow house and wishing the floor would swallow him, ‘this is Eva Saida. Eva. This is my mother. Ginny Potter.’ 

‘Actually,’ said Ginny with a dangerous glint in her eye, ‘we’ve met. In Lisbon. Only she was calling herself “Lisa” back then. We didn’t talk much.’ 

‘I was hiding,’ Eva said, voice far too bland. ‘Trying to avoid too much direct contact with the authorities.’ Her hands were clasped in front of her, but Albus could see how hard she was gripping, could see the tension in her jaw, even if every inch of her was being forced into a calm, polite demeanour. She was a master of lies and identities, so he had to wonder if she was fighting the instinct to manipulate, or if she didn’t _have_ a mask for being a guest in a quiet West Country cottage. Or she was genuinely too rattled to lie. 

‘On account of that whole “spy and traitor” thing,’ said Ginny, too cheerful. ‘Yes, I can see why you wanted to keep a low profile.’ Albus shut his eyes, but then his mother was still talking. ‘The guest bedroom’s ready. My husband Floo’d ahead to tell me.’ There was a particular emphasis on ‘tell’ which Al didn’t like, but the argument between his parents about this was far too low on his priority list right then. 

‘Thank you,’ blurted out Eva, and when Albus opened his eyes he found her staring at a spot inches above Ginny’s head. There was another, awkward pause. ‘You have a nice house.’ 

_Oh my God, she really has no idea what to say._ He fished wildly for a topic as his mother narrowed her eyes, and settled on the usually safe, ‘What’s for dinner?’ 

‘You don’t need to cook for me,’ Eva stammered. 

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Ginny with a smile that wouldn’t melt butter. ‘If we’re putting you up for the night, you’re going to get fed. Dinner in this house is always something that can be reheated easily, because the Council of Thorns rampaging across the world, brutally massacring people, means my husband’s often back late. So we don’t wait for him. But I’m putting on a roast lamb.’ 

The points were so sharp even Albus felt them. He cleared his throat. ‘Please tell me James isn’t coming over.’ 

His mother gave him a look that said she wasn’t _that_ cruel. ‘Sometimes, your brother fends for himself. Sometimes, he gives himself food poisoning, but there’s not much I can do about that.’ 

‘If you’re cooking,’ said Eva, stilted as ever, ‘can I help?’ 

The idea of his mother making dinner with Eva Saida’s help was enough to make Albus’ head spin, but mercifully Ginny looked like letting her into the kitchen would be an invasion too far. ‘No, no. It’s fine. I should get back to it. Al, you know where the spare room is. Make yourself at home.’ 

Her smile was still like a knife when she swept out of the living room and into the kitchen, and Eva shut her eyes, muttering something under her breath in Arabic that Al suspected was a once-forgotten prayer. When he approached, she looked up at him, expression flat. ‘She’s going to stab me in my sleep.’ 

‘No,’ said Albus firmly. ‘She’d kill you face to face.’ 

She let out a slow, controlled breath. ‘Then let’s see to this guest room. And if your father hasn’t sorted out the funds by tomorrow, I’ll just sleep in a ditch. Or a Dementor nest. You know, somewhere _safe_.’ 

‘My Mum is many things,’ said Al, leading her to the stairs, ‘but she’s not worse than Dementors.’ 

They climbed the stairs, past his bedroom, down the corridor to the guest room. He was at the door before he stopped and looked back to see her paused at the top of the landing, gaze roaming over every inch of the walls - at the pictures. Family photographs had waved on the way up, and they continued here, a gallery of memories in an eternal loop. 

She jerked after a heartbeat of his eyes on her, and looked over apologetically. ‘Coming,’ she stammered, and hurried to catch up, but the stunned air about her remained. 

‘This used to be James’. But he’s had his own place for years now. I guess with Lily still home for holidays and… and hoping I’d come back, James drew the short straw on whose room becomes a guest room,’ said Albus, not quite looking at her as he opened the door. ‘Thankfully they cleared out all of the Quidditch stuff. So many pictures.’ 

‘I’m not in the right house,’ mused Eva, ‘to say I don’t really care for Quidditch, am I?’ 

He thought that might be a worse admission than her entire identity being a lie. ‘You’re _really_ not.’ 

She raised an eyebrow and he would swear there was amusement, but then she looked into the room and saw the clothes laid out on the freshly-made bed. ‘Oh, no…’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘I guess Mum realised you wouldn’t have a change of clothes, coming out of prison and all.’ 

Eva just stared. ‘I can tell when people hate me. Usually _not_ hating me is the exception. She hates me.’ 

‘Maybe. But this family has made a tradition of taking in waifs and strays. I guess that’s some of her old stuff, though you’re a little taller, so maybe it’s been altered…’ 

Her gaze didn’t move from the bed. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ 

‘Second door on the right -’ 

‘I think I’m going to shower before dinner. If there’s time?’ 

Still she didn’t move, so he stepped back, gave her space. ‘Probably. Yeah.’ There was no answer, so he left her to deal with the apparent trauma of a guest bedroom, and headed back downstairs. The sound of chopping wafted from the kitchen, and he stepped in to find his mother swishing her wand with unusual venom at vegetables. 

She stopped when he came in. ‘You found everything alright? There are fresh towels in the bathroom -’ 

But then he’d crossed the kitchen to wrap his mother in a bear hug, burying his face in her shoulder. It was a thank you and a desperate plea for comfort and an admission of his utter confounding all in one, and she didn’t hesitate when she returned the embrace. 

‘You’re mental,’ he whispered, shoulders shuddering with emotion and amusement. ‘You’re doing all of this and I don’t think she has a damned clue how to handle it, especially as you’re scaring the _shit_ out of her…’ 

‘ _Good_ ,’ said Ginny, and pulled back to press a hand to his cheek, her smile a thin knife-edge. ‘I can put up with you having as stupidly big a heart as your father, but you’ve got to let me have my fun.’ 

‘It’ll just be one night.’ 

‘So long as I can keep tormenting her,’ said Ginny, stepping away to return to the cooking, ‘she can stay as long as she wants.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Albus, smile wry and pleased. ‘Just one night.’

* * 

The situation on the Niemandhorn Express could have been worse. At least they had separate bunks. 

Rose had slept poorly, not just because her veins were fizzing with the evening of drinks and dinner and trying to act like she and Scorpius were normal people. Not just because the thought of Matt sometimes reared up to stab her in the gut with pain and guilt. But because Scorpius was asleep just below her, and in the darkened silence of the cabin, she could hear him breathing. 

It was the simplest, most essential thing. And if she slept, maybe this would prove another one of those dreams where she woke up and he was gone and the world was cold and colourless. 

She did, of course, slip away eventually, and when she woke it was with a start, because with the trundling of the train, in the bright morning light of their ascent into the Swiss mountains, she couldn’t hear him any more. Rose clutched the side of the bunk, stuck her head over to find the bottom bed empty, and her heart lunged into her throat, spots appearing in front of her eyes - 

But the bed was _slept_ in, the sheets rumpled, and of course this wasn’t fake because she was going to Niemandhorn with him and - 

There was the sound of a toilet flushing from the bathroom compartment, and running water, and then the door opened. Scorpius froze, fully dressed. ‘Um.’ 

She realised she was staring at him like going to the loo was the most shocking thing that had ever happened, and shook her head, blinking away fatigue. ‘Nothing. Sorry.’ 

He looked away and went to the cabin window, pulling the blinds up. ‘Huh. Snow.’ 

She glanced over, watched the Swiss mountains swishing past the train, peerless white peaks stabbing upwards. ‘I guess we can’t be that far.’ 

‘Train comes in at ten o’ clock, local time.’ Scorpius reached for his pocket-watch, the one Harry had given him, which had been amongst the effects she’d hung onto for the last two years. ‘So we’ve got a few hours. Time for breakfast and to freshen up.’ He glanced over, and something curled his lip with that secret, amused smile. 

Her throat tightened. ‘What?’ 

He blinked, and the smile died. His gaze snapped back to the window, going cold as the peaks beyond. ‘Nothing. Sorry.’ 

She closed her eyes and imagined tumbling off the bed into his arms, and then her mind sheared away with the stab of Matt, of two years, of her guilt, of how she’d changed to something cold and broken and distant, to how he’d changed into a murderer and she _still_ wasn’t ready to think about that, let alone know what to _feel_ about that. 

Idle daydreaming had been painful, once, but now it was at whole new plateaus of danger. 

Scorpius scratched his chin. He hadn’t shaved, and she tried to not remember the scrape of stubble in his kiss, the way the mess took off all his sharp corners, and then she wished she could Obliviate herself. ‘I’ll go check out breakfast,’ he said. ‘You, er. Do your girly things.’ 

‘Yes, girly things. Like getting dressed.’ Not for the first time, she remembered why Selena was sardonic at everything. It made life easier. ‘I’ll be plaiting pink ribbons into my hair and worrying about my nails and -’ 

‘I remember how you used to leave the bathroom -’ 

‘Because _men_ always leave them _intact_ …’ 

‘ _I_ ,’ said Scorpius, with what sounded like genuine, haughty offence, ‘care _greatly_ for personal hygiene and appearance. I don’t know how some other men, less good-looking men who _certainly_ have less-good hair, handle their ablutions -’ 

‘Oh, I remember what _you_ _’re_ like; you shouldn’t be passing judgement on _me_ for…’ 

_Stop. Flirting._   
  
The thought seemed to strike them both at the same time, and Scorpius cleared his throat as her voice trailed off. ‘Breakfast,’ he said. ‘Go be girly.’ 

The old Rose wanted to throw a pillow at him as he headed for the door. No, that wasn’t strictly right; the old Rose wanted to pin him to the door and snog him senseless before dragging him into the bottom bunk, but she couldn’t do _that_ , either, and so she just stared at the ceiling until he was gone. 

‘You are a bloody idiot, Weasley, what are you?’ Rose muttered as she clambered out of the bunk, voice taking on the cadence of Selena’s wryness. At least she hadn’t internalised her this time. 

It was naive to think this wouldn’t happen. It would be naive to pretend she hadn’t known _exactly_ what was going on when she’d volunteered to go with Scorpius. She was playing with fire, a moth drawn to the flame, and she’d started this even before Matt left her. That had her thoughts spinning with the guilty cocktail of pain and relief and loneliness, but she knew it had done what Matt anticipated: freed her. 

It wasn’t that Rose was intending on seducing Scorpius on their world trip. There were far, far too many problems, and that the freshness of her breakup was not the biggest obstacle spoke volumes. But she’d done this for _him_ , come on this trip for him, and even if it was the stupidest, most dangerous thing she could think of doing to her broken feelings and crooked heart, she also knew it wasn’t possible for her to stay away. This wasn’t about a sophisticated plan. This was about following an instinct that had sunk into her bones long ago. 

Despite the danger of pain, it felt good to take a risk. She hadn’t felt capable of that in a long time. 

She found Scorpius in the dining cart, where they’d sat the previous night and somehow talked about nothing of substance for long hours. It was like he’d prepared for breakfast while he waited, ready with that pack of nonsense conversation that he’d shuffled and now dealt with expert ease. 

How good the croissants were. Whether they were allowed more orange juice, or only the one portion which could be generously called a shot. How many times Lillian Rourke had likely used the word ‘united’ in her opening speech to the IMC. It kept them going until a murmur ran through the carriage, and Rose looked from Scorpius’ smirking face to the window as Niemandhorn Castle drew into view. 

It was not at the peak of Niemandhorn itself, because Niemandhorn, the mountain no Muggle could ever find, stabbed right into the clouds, taller than any of the Alps. The castle had been half-built, half-carved into the cliffside, a towering success of magical architecture and masonry. Stone as white as the snow gleamed in the morning sun, the fortification which could hold a world council, their security, additional staff, and stand up to any invasion force which didn’t want to suffer earth-shattering casualties, still and serene and formidable as the mountains themselves. 

Scorpius let out a low whistle. ‘Okay. I’m impressed. And I’ve really gone off castles.’ 

‘I can’t think of a place that’ll be safer from Council attacks.’ 

‘Attacks, sure. Infiltration?’ He grimaced. ‘Infiltrators arrive the same way we do.’ 

‘ _We_ needed major security checks at Paris. They almost didn’t let us keep our _wands_. And _we_ _’ve_ been vouched for by the DMLE.’ 

‘Because there’s no way we could have been replaced en route. This could be Polyjuice in my shot of orange juice.’ Scorpius faltered as she glared at him. ‘I mean, it’s _not_ …’ 

That dampened spirits as they finished breakfast and packed what little had been unpacked, ready to disembark by the time the train pulled into the lone station. The Express was the one and only way to get to the mountain, let alone the castle, and so the platform was heaving with those waiting to receive additional staffers, experts, anyone come to give their input to the IMC. 

Neither Rose nor Scorpius studied the crowd that intently, just tried to push through it, because the only people in Niemandhorn expecting them were Lillian Rourke and her staff, and she had _far_ better things to do than receive them. So it was with great surprise that they reacted to a familiar voice piping from below eye level, ‘Mister Malfoy! Miss Weasley!’ 

They spun with wide eyes to see the short, stout form of a House Elf wearing a well-tailored suit, buttoned to the neck, tie perfect, buttons on his waistcoat gleaming, and Scorpius _beamed_. ‘Harley!’ 

‘I always knew Malfoys were sneaky bastards,’ Harley, former Manager of the House Elves of Hogwarts, declared with a glinting grin. ‘Coming back from the dead? Pretty sneaky.’ 

‘What’re you _doing_ here? Don’t tell me you’re staffing for -’ 

‘ _Staff_? You’ve been out of the world a while,’ Harley scoffed, ‘so I’ll forgive you your idiot little Malfoy-brain assumptions.’ 

Rose cleared her throat. ‘Harley heads up the World Elf Alliance these days.’ 

‘The what?’ 

Harley rolled his eyes and gestured for them to follow him off the platform, still exposed to the chilly mountain air, and into the depths of Niemandhorn Castle and its white, shining halls. ‘Britain leads the way on House Elf rights. But it’s not _alone_ in the world, and the world’s being threatened by the Council of Thorns. Think of us as the House Elf equivalent of the IMC. We can fight, we can make ourselves useful…’ 

‘And you can play politics with world governments for more rights while you’re at it,’ Rose added. 

Harley smirked. ‘I like to think we prove we’re as good, or better, than any wizard. Not that I approve of the idea we need to _prove_ a damned thing, but it don’t hurt to put smug bastards in their place.’ 

‘So you’re here to represent the House Elves on the IMC?’ said Scorpius. 

‘Yeah, I’m in the Convocation chambers in an hour,’ said Harley. Once they were in the sweeping halls of the main castle, the brisk breeze and clamouring crowds and trundling train far behind heavy, closed doors, he reached into his jacket and pulled out folded parchment. ‘Chairman Rourke told me you were coming; reckoned I’d want to know. I’d _heard_ , of course, because the press went _crazy_ , but I thought I’d give you the welcome. This place gets stupid busy.’ He handed the paper over to Rose, which she took with a small sense of satisfaction. Even if he was here for Scorpius more than her, at least he acknowledged she was the organised one. It was the little victories that counted. 

‘Room numbers; you’ve got guest quarters for one night. Dining hours are on there, too; tables are in the main hall. Security is posted on delicate areas; it’ll be obvious where you’re not supposed to go. Otherwise, think of this place as a really important, draughty, hotel. Oh, and speaking of the press…’ Harley jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘They’re not allowed to linger on the platform. But we’ve got to pass through the welcome hall, and with the train coming in they are going to be _thick_ there, and of _course_ some of them have caught wind that you’re coming -’ 

Scorpius made a face. ‘They weren’t _that_ mad for me in London.’ 

‘That’s because Dad kept them away from the hotel,’ said Rose with a sigh. ‘And we booked onto the train so last-minute I bet they didn’t know to find us at King’s Cross.’ 

‘This is the heart of the IMC,’ said Harley with a shrug. ‘Of _course_ it’s up to its eyeballs in press. I mean, the non-Brits only care _so_ much, you’re not exactly worldwide heroes, but coming back from the dead’s piqued curiosity.’ 

‘I’m used to press.’ Scorpius shook his head. ‘Let’s just get to our rooms, and then down to business.’ 

‘I’m going to be busy, no doubt,’ said Harley, ‘but if I can help, you let me know.’ 

‘Hopefully it’ll be easy.’ Scorpius grinned at the House Elf, and stuck his hand out. ‘I appreciate it, though. And it’s good to see you.’ 

Harley shook the hand, and gave Rose a respectful nod. ‘And you. Both of you. You kids try to stay out of too much trouble, now, you hear me? I’m this way, down to the Convocation, so… just tell the press to naff off.’ 

‘I tried that,’ Rose sighed. ‘It never works.’ 

‘Then I suppose you’re buggered,’ said Harley with his usual thoughtful regard, and swaggered off as best a House Elf could down a different corridor. 

Scorpius stared at the doors to the hall, and drew a deep breath. ‘This is nothing we’ve not handled before.’ 

‘Just dump all questions on the DMLE,’ Rose suggested. ‘They’re used to that.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He grimaced, then opened the door and into the breach they went. 

Niemandhorn sported many great halls of gleaming white stone, marble columns and buttresses, ornate carvings sweeping along walls and ceilings like something out of a winter fairy tale, but none of that could be appreciated when they were welcomed, along with the thronging of other passengers off the train, with flashing bulbs like lighting, and the babbling of voices the thunder to follow. 

It wasn’t as if they were the most interesting story in Niemandhorn, but they were the newest, and they’d managed to keep away from the press since Scorpius’ return. This had only encouraged those who cared about the story, and the rest were picking up the scent, so trying to get through the hall was like trying to shoulder-barge a wave. 

Most of it they could handle. Questions about Scorpius’ resurrection, about the past eight months, about his alleged association with Prometheus Thane were dismissed without real answers, the journalists told to refer to official DMLE press releases - of which there had been very few. The ones about Draco Malfoy were harder, but it was easy enough to say they knew nothing about his whereabouts and activities, because that was the truth. 

But though Rose braced herself for the final, inevitable wave of personal questions, she almost fell over when a German journalist yelled over the hubbub, ‘Mister Malfoy! Miss Weasley! Is it true that your wedding’s back on?’ 

Was it progress that the question made her want to laugh? Scorpius’ stricken expression almost made that happen, so she grabbed his elbow and kept him moving, heading for the door to the stairway. ‘No,’ she said simply. ‘There is absolutely not going to be a wedding.’ 

Elaborating just gave them more quotes to twist, so she pressed on and then they were free, because the IMC couldn’t keep the press out entirely but they could stop them from following visitors to their rooms. Once they made it to the stairway they could move freely, tromping up in accordance with the directions Harley had given them, and it was only when they’d made it up one flight and turned a corner that Rose stopped, clutched her gut, and burst into laughter. 

Scorpius just stared at her, which made her laugh even harder, and she had to lean on the wall. ‘Oh, Merlin,’ Rose croaked. ‘I’d forgotten that.’ 

‘Forgotten _what_?’ 

‘They decided…’ It wasn’t funny. It had almost broken her the first time someone hurled the rumour at her in public, and she’d thought her father was going to punch a journalist. But now it was so distant, so ridiculous, that amusement was her only option. ‘After you died, the press decided all _sorts_ of things. One of them was that we’d been engaged before you died.’ There had also, she recalled, the _briefest_ rumour she’d been pregnant, but that hadn’t been more than a whisper before her mother had muttered things into certain ears, something about beetles, and she’d only heard about that one months after it had been killed. 

‘Oh, _bloody_ hell. Are you alright?’ 

‘I can’t breathe.’ After a moment she straightened, sobered, and rubbed her pained stomach. ‘But you’ve got to laugh, don’t you?’ 

‘ _Do_ you?’ 

‘Oh, come _on_. You’ve been back a _week_ ; of _course_ you and I fell madly into each other’s arms and decided, hey, there’s a war going on, the situation’s _super_ complicated, but let’s _plan a wedding_.’ 

He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling; he just reached for the parchment and, with a stabbing guilt at her mirth she couldn’t understand, she let him take it. 

‘Yeah,’ Scorpius grunted, turning away. ‘Yeah, that sounds like the sort of crap the press loves.’ Before she could summon a response, he’d pressed on, following the directions on the paper and tromping back up the stairway. ‘Let’s just get to the Alliance records and get the _fuck_ out of here.’

* * 

A clean bed. A hot shower. A warm, home-cooked meal. All of it perhaps under the most awkward circumstances of her life, but if Eva Saida had survived ambush and torture and betrayal, she could cope with a bit of social discomfort. 

Or such she had told herself through dinner at the Potter household. She didn’t know if she was relieved or not that Harry Potter did not make it home before she’d decided on an early night, genuinely tired and genuinely keen to avoid the chit-chat at the table with Albus and Ginny. She’d stayed mostly silent while the two had discussed politics in a rather bloodless manner, avoiding anything resembling controversy. 

The food was superb. No wonder Albus knew how to cook. So she’d eaten while wondering what normal conversation around a dinner table was like for normal people, and knew she’d never be able to even pretend this far. 

Sleep had not come easy, despite the comforts - or, more likely, because of them. By instinct she woke early and, feeling too penned in, found some clothes fit for exercise and slipped through the house bathed in the pre-dawn light to sneak out for a run. 

Eva didn’t really know Britain. She’d never done a job in the country; the Ministry’s low tolerance for dark magic and formidable law enforcement made it a bad place to find work. She’d worked with plenty of Brits but always associated them, all of them, with the hustle and bustle of London. Godric’s Hollow was something else: quiet, sleepy, a slice of wizarding life pushed up against Muggle ignorance, and so peaceful that the perils of the world might have been a million miles away. 

People were up at this time, and she wasn’t sure how many were Muggles and how many were wizards, heading out to walk their dogs or pick up the paper or milk, and all moving with a similar lack of care. They nodded. They waved. They said, ‘good morning,’ as if she were some well-known acquaintance instead of a new face. 

It was all very suspicious. 

But it was invigorating to get out, to breathe the fresh, cold November air, to feel leaves crunch under her feet and remind herself that there was a world beyond chilled cell walls. Even returning to the razor-sharp hospitality of the Potter home was not so daunting as she finished, trotting up the path and trying to keep quiet as she slid through the front door. 

‘Tea?’ called a voice from the kitchen immediately, and Eva fought the instinct to swear and shoot. Ginny Weasley appeared in the door, holding a steaming mug, and her gaze landed on the wand half-drawn. ‘Most people don’t go for a morning jog armed.’ 

‘I’m not in the habit of going anywhere unarmed,’ said Eva, and didn’t worry too much about being polite because she _knew_ she was being fucked with. 

‘Oh, _yes_. Lots of dangerous ambushes in the shrubs of Godric’s Hollow.’ 

‘There were dogs. Big ones. They could have been spies.’ 

Something flickered in Ginny’s eyes. Eva wasn’t sure if it was approval. ‘Did you want that tea?’ 

‘Er, do you have coffee, please?’ 

Ginny just huffed and returned to the kitchen. Eva trailed, because she wasn’t sure what else to do. ‘So you’re not going to be here very long.’ 

Eva tried to pull out a chair at the kitchen table without making much noise. ‘Hopefully Director Potter will have the funds arranged. I really don’t - I appreciate you being hospitable -’ 

‘It wasn’t my choice.’ Ginny flicked her wand at the kettle and seemed to decide the best thing to do while waiting for it to boil was stare at it with cold judgement. ‘Neither my son or husband is particularly good at asking when they want to bring criminals under our roof.’ 

‘I’m sorry -’ 

‘Let’s not,’ said Ginny. ‘I’m sure my hospitality is the least you need to apologise for.’ 

Eva’s jaw tightened. ‘It’s something I _can_ apologise for.’ 

There was a long pause, broken only by the whistle of the kettle. Ginny moved to the cupboards. ‘Milk? Sugar?’ 

‘Black, please. No sugar.’ 

‘I should have guessed.’ 

Eva half-rose, words thickening in her throat. ‘Mrs Potter -’ 

‘I don’t care,’ said Ginny flatly, turning around with a fresh, steaming mug. ‘Explanations, apologies, confessions; what I think of you is irrelevant, isn’t it?’ 

‘It should be,’ Eva conceded. 

‘My son will make his own decisions. He’s good at that. I don’t -’ 

‘I think making decisions without regard for the ones we care about is a pretty good way to let more hurt into the world.’ 

Ginny stopped short, and Eva wasn’t sure if she was affronted by the interruption or struck by the words. ‘He doesn’t need my approval for his actions. He does need my support, and he has that, unquestioningly.’ She slid the mug across the kitchen table. 

‘Mrs Potter…’ Eva hesitated, then grabbed the mug. It was the easiest next step, but now she’d done it, she had to find a _new_ next step. ‘I don’t pretend my role in this ends anywhere but a grave or a cell. But if I can help your son in this, or in the meantime, I will. If I can do something _good_ in the meantime, for once, I will. I’m not here to corrupt Albus or distract him -’ 

‘Saida, you might be beyond even my worst nightmares as a girl for Al to bring home, but I’m more worried by the Council and the _world_ than you.’ Ginny tilted her head as she sipped her tea, brow furrowed. ‘Of course, if you hurt him again, I’m going to hex your kneecaps off.’ 

‘That’s - I can’t argue with that.’ 

‘Damn right, you won’t. Drink your coffee and then you can help me with breakfast.’

* * 

‘This is going to be awkward,’ Matt muttered as he let Selena draw ahead of them down the corridor in the Ministry offices. 

‘The latest phase of a worldwide crisis has just hit,’ she admonished, heels like gunshots on marble. ‘I’m rather sure Hermione Granger has more things to worry about than giving her daughter’s ex-boyfriend the evil eye.’ 

‘She’s a smart woman.’ His shoulders hunched in. ‘She can multi-task. Or delegate.’ 

‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my mother, Hermione Granger never delegates anything she can do herself.’ 

‘I thought you were trying to reassure me?’ 

Selena gave him a wispy smile over her shoulder. ‘I’m capricious.’ 

Somehow, that _did_ reassure him, and he resisted the urge to clutch his bad wrist as they stepped into the offices of the Contagion Task Force, off from the side of the main floor of the DMLE. The stump was starting to burn when he was stressed, so these days it burned all the time. 

Hermione Granger stood in the centre of the storm, a map shimmering with changing markers spread before her, staff racing to and fro. When she saw them, her eyes narrowed and Matt’s breath caught. ‘I don’t have time for social visits -’ 

‘I didn’t know we were on terms for social visits, Ms Granger,’ Selena pointed out as she led Matt over. ‘I know you’re busy -’ 

‘Very busy.’ 

Matt squinted at the map. ‘Why? I mean, has the Council unleashed more Inferi?’ 

‘Not yet, but holding Athens and other magical sites in Greece allows the Council to use them as staging grounds for more attacks. They’ll have an easier time harvesting corpses for their Inferi. We can’t do anything about _that_ ; that’s a job for the IMC as a whole, but we _have_ to make sure we have a decent distribution of cures and have the international situation under control…’ Hermione’s voice trailed off, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I don’t need to brief you.’ 

‘It was very interesting, though,’ said Selena politely. ‘Really, we should be given security clearance by now.’ 

‘It would save a lot of trouble,’ said Hermione through gritted teeth. Then she looked at Matt, who took a step back, and something softened around her eyes. ‘How are you, Matthias?’ 

‘I, er -’ 

‘I haven’t spoken to Rose, if that’s what this is about. She was with Al. Which is something, at least.’ 

Matt tried to not feel relieved. He knew Rose was now with Scorpius, and he honestly didn’t want to think about that. But knowing she’d had Albus to turn to, when one of the things he’d worried was if he was taking her support structure by going to Selena, was comforting. ‘I’m glad. This really isn’t about that.’ 

‘To avoid beating about the bush, we’re getting back in the game,’ said Selena flatly. ‘And we need the Chalice of Emrys.’ 

Hermione looked unsurprised, pushing herself upright. ‘You want to put it on your mantelpiece.’ 

‘She means we want to help studying it. Prometheus Thane reckons that if it’s destroyed, it’ll take Lethe with it,’ said Matt. 

‘So let’s trust Thane,’ said Hermione dryly. ‘Lockett disagrees with him; did you know that? She thinks that it might deny us a cure. She’s trying to find another way.’ 

‘I’m not racing to fetch a hammer. But, with all respect to the Professor, she may know Lethe better than I do, but not many people know the _Chalice_ better than I do. And I, in fact, have the one man who _does_.’ 

‘De Sablé.’ Hermione’s brow furrowed. ‘Don’t play games with me, Matthias. I’m not going to let you strong-arm me the way your father -’ 

‘I’m not doing things like Dad; I’d rather not get arrested for doing your job better than you,’ said Matt, nose tilting up. Selena shot him a warning look, but he ignored her. ‘What you really need to do is give _me_ a job.’ 

‘Working for the team dealing with the Chalice -’ 

‘ _Leading_ the team dealing with the Chalice. Or, leading _a_ team. I have people I know, people I can trust, people who’ll get the job done. Including de Sablé. This has the added bonus of freeing up Lockett to work on _Lethe_ , not the Chalice. Which it seems you need her to do right now.’ Matt shrugged. ‘You know I have my father’s resources. Maybe he couldn’t cooperate with Harry Potter or Lillian Rourke, but I’m not in the business of intelligence gathering or vigilante action. But understanding the Chalice, making it work for us? With you, doing that, I can do business.’ 

Hermione watched him for a moment more, then harrumphed. ‘You’re so like him, you know?’ 

‘And to think for years I was told I take after my mother.’ 

‘You have to, a little, as you’re actually trying to work _with_ us.’ Her lips thinned as she thought. ‘Alright, Mister Doyle. You’ve got a deal. Are you working out of that blasted warehouse of your father’s?’ 

‘It seems the best place to do it. Off the beaten track.’ 

‘You get to pick your team, but at least one will be from a list of candidates _I_ will supply; don’t ignore the experience my people have accumulated.’ 

‘Understood, but I won’t have a spy or a liaison. I report directly to you.’ 

‘Agreed.’ Hermione glanced at Selena. ‘Are you formally in on this?’ 

‘Oh, yes.’ Selena gave her chirpy smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’m the official cheerleader for smart guys who need to save the world. I fetch them tea and buoy up their tragically low self-esteem.’ 

‘Your mother’s going to kill me,’ Hermione sighed. ‘But at least you’ll be at home. Very well, Mister Doyle, Ms Rourke. I’ll get the paperwork filled in. I need to be in about five different places at once right now, so you’re going to have to excuse me, but in the meantime, welcome to the team.’ She didn’t say another word before walking off into the crashing waves of chaos in the Contagion Task Force’s office, leaving Matt and Selena at the centre with the command table. 

‘So,’ drawled Selena. ‘You walked in and demanded your own team leader position in an official Ministry task force. That’s a _little_ different to what we talked about last night.’ 

Matt grimaced. ‘It made sense once I was talking; I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ambush you with this -’ 

‘Oh, please.’ Selena waved a dismissive hand. ‘Like I didn’t know this was where it’d end up. I just didn’t think you’re be so bloody outrageous.’ 

He pursed his lips. ‘This feels weird. Why does this feel weird?’ 

‘Because we’re being legitimate, for once? We’re used to being scrappy, independent operators who care nothing for the rule of law.’ She shrugged. ‘ _I_ _’m_ more scared that we’re actually qualified for this. When did that happen? When did we become responsible?’ 

Matt looked down at the still, motionless shape of his prosthetic hand, his arm still in a sling. He could twitch it occasionally, or make a fist, but nothing more complicated, yet. So there it sat, a lump of metal, a reminder of all he’d paid and the looming menace to come. 

‘I don’t know,’ he said, and looked up to force a smile for her. ‘But I’m blaming you.’


	23. A Hundred Winters

What had once been a bustling centre of international travel, espionage, and operations was now a gloomy and dusty warehouse, but still Matt stood in the centre of his father’s old base and saw what _could_ be. 

‘We can’t keep the Chalice here for long,’ he told Lowsley, who handled the solid wooden box containing it like a bomb that might go off. ‘But we can keep it hidden and under lock and key. ‘ 

This was not the staff once summoned here. But then, his father had used DMLE officers, former and present; Ministry officials, experts in various fields. He’d paid them handsomely to do dangerous and illegal work. The Doyle family was getting back into business in a far more legitimate and _narrow_ manner, which meant Matt only needed a handful of their past employees, and now he had some of Hermione Granger’s people, to boot. 

Not many. They had to worry about Lethe, about outbreaks in the Grecian area, about continuous Inferi hostile activity in South Africa, suspected to be the Council’s next target for a takeover. Hermione’s people were experts in illnesses, not necessarily the artifact which had spawned the plague. They were all elsewhere. 

‘Doyle!’ 

_Almost_ all elsewhere. 

Matt turned at the familiar voice, eyebrows raising. ‘Professor, glad you could be here -’ 

‘I cannot _believe_ you managed to strong-arm Granger into this.’ Nathalie Lockett’s lips were a thin, angry line as she stalked into the warehouse. ‘I had the Chalice research entirely under control…’ 

‘Respectfully, Professor, you’re a potioneer -’ 

‘And you’re nineteen.’ 

Matt paused. ‘Twenty. Just.’ 

‘Oh, I take it back, that makes you _eminently_ more qualified -’ 

‘For the past two years, _nobody_ \- except maybe Prometheus Thane and his people - have been studying the Chalice of Emrys. The foremost expert on such an artifact was murdered by the Council. I, however, chased this object. Read every historical record we could find; worked with Reynald de Sablé, who harboured the Chalice for _centuries_.’ Matt stabbed a finger at Nejem and Lowsley, who were sidling towards the secure underground access point. ‘I’m one of the closest things to an expert we have left.’ 

Lockett opened and shut her mouth, looking like she was biting back a retort with supreme effort. Matt stayed silent, in part because he never knew how to handle Nat Lockett. He’d never had a high opinion of her as a teacher; she’d treated students as an occupational hazard, not the job. But then she’d cured Phlegethon, and kept him personally alive long enough for Selena and the others to find the Chalice of Emrys on Cat Island. 

‘My understanding of the Stygian plagues leaves me perfectly prepared to study the Chalice and figure out how to disconnect it from Lethe -’ 

‘You’re good, Professor, I’m really not doubting that,’ said Matt. ‘And I’ve got your notes on your work so far, and it’s looking great. But there’s a worldwide danger of Lethe, to wizards and Muggles alike, and there is _never_ enough cure to distribute fast enough. Surely, _surely_ you’re better off freed up to either find a way to save them, or to continue your brilliant potions which keep them alive long enough for one of the cures to get to these people?’ 

Lockett folded her arms across her chest. ‘You’ve got my notes?’ She sounded guarded. 

‘Ms Granger forwarded me everything the research time had -’ 

‘Then you know I disagree with Thane’s theory that the Chalice must be destroyed?’ 

‘I saw that.’ 

‘If he’s _wrong_ ,’ said Lockett, stepping forward, ‘then all we’ve done is _remove_ a source of a cure -’ 

‘I’m not jumping down that road, Professor, I agree it shouldn’t be done lightly. But I don’t even know if it’s _possible_.’ Matt let out a long breath. ‘The priority is to sever the tie between the Chalice and Lethe. It’s _powering_ Lethe; it’s part of why it’s so much harder to cure or delay than Eridanos. I do see no reason why destroying the Chalice _won_ _’t_ work.’ 

‘Surely it’ll be easier to just break that tie -’ 

‘I don’t know! It’s too soon! I will _look_ at this. Not through Lethe - you’ve studied the connection between the virus and the Chalice enough. I’m going to go back to the Chalice’s roots. Once I understand more of the intrinsic magics which _created_ it, I will understand how it fuels a plague.’ Matt drew a deep breath. ‘And I’ll know better how to destroy it, if it comes to that. Understand, Professor, I will take _no_ joy in destroying something of _this_ much cultural -’ 

‘I’m talking about saving lives -’ 

‘ _So am I_.’ Matt’s jaw tightened. ‘Professor. With respect. This was Ms Granger’s call, not yours. She trusts me. I _hunted_ this thing. I know you were there at the final leg of the search, but to Syria, to Portugal, to the Caribbean, this was _my_ research. I know what I’m doing.’ 

Lockett stared at him for a moment, then turned away, running a hand through her short, greying dark hair. ‘You bloody kids…’ 

‘The others respect you a great deal. You saved my life twice. I will of course listen to your counsel. I’m not eager to destroy the Chalice; Thane might be wrong. But he was under Veritaserum and understood the Chalice enough to summon it from the Otherworld. I _have_ to give this theory proper consideration.’ 

‘Hmph.’ She looked no less discontented. ‘You’ll keep me appraised of your progress?’ 

‘As a professional courtesy. I answer to Hermione Granger.’ 

‘That’ll have to do.’ Lockett looked across the warehouse, expression flat. ‘At least you’re doing this with the Ministry.’ 

‘At least the Ministry are _listening_ to me.’ 

‘It’s a novelty.’ She shrugged, and turned away. ‘I’ll let you get to work.’ 

Matt rolled his eyes as she left. His father would throw a fit that Lockett, not assigned to this team, could wrangle its location out of the Task Force, but she had the rank and respect that he himself wasn’t surprised. He turned as Lowsley padded up next to him, bare-handed; the Chalice had been stowed, for now. 

‘Shall I have our ongoing research notes forwarded to the Professor?’ 

‘Like hell,’ said Matt. ‘I answer to Hermione Granger and Lockett’s going to South Africa. I’ll tell her whatever she damn well needs to hear to leave me alone.’ He pointed at Lowsley’s chest. ‘We’ve got everything we need to get started, but there’s one more thing you have to do: wherever in the bloody world he is, bring me de Sablé. He and I have a lot to talk about.’

* * 

‘It’s useful to rescue the daughter of the Chairman of the IMC,’ Scorpius mused as he led them past the security checkpoint and into the deeper chambers of Niemandhorn Castle. Most people couldn’t get down here, not under the current arrangements, but they’d shown up, identified themselves, and been waved through. ‘Not to mention international fame. What’s even down here?’ 

‘This castle is centuries old,’ said Rose, following down well-lit marble halls that wound right into the mountain. ‘And it’s always been a centre for European magical affairs. Often as a point of neutrality, or unity. I believe the first construction here happened under the Carolingian kings -’ 

‘Please, no,’ Scorpius growled. ‘I’m struggling with history eighty years old, let’s not go eight hundred.’ 

‘Actually more like twelve hundred.’ 

‘ _Exactly_.’ He kept advancing, because that way he didn’t have to look at her, and still he felt guilty for cutting her off. It was a lie that he didn’t want to hear; he’d never brimmed over with enthusiasm for the ancient tales their work often brought them into contact with, but he didn’t think he could stand to hear her gushing such. It was too endearing. 

They proceeded the rest of the way in silence, until Scorpius came to a halt outside a heavy, dark wooden door next to a plaque which simply read _Alliance Archives_. ‘So that looks promising.’ 

Inside was a huge chamber, dimly lit by flickering sconces that could only cast so much light down here, even on the bright white stone of Niemandhorn. Stacks of shelves stretched deep, going so far that he couldn’t see where they ended, thick with boxes and crates and leather-bound volumes. Dust filled his nostrils, like history itself had a smell, and while Scorpius had never cared much for that, today he could taste the apprehension which came with it. 

Maybe this was how it always felt to Rose and Matt. ‘Excuse me?’ 

Several desks were pushed up at this end of the chamber, and a head popped up from behind it - a young, dark-haired man with wonky glasses and a perpetually hangdog expression. ‘Huh? Oh - visitors and tourists aren’t allowed down here…’ 

Scorpius lifted his hands. ‘We’ve got permission from Chairman Rourke to be here.’ 

The attendant pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘That’s great, but Chairman Rourke doesn’t have any authority over Alliance records.’ 

‘She has authority over _security_ -’ 

‘We just want to ask some questions,’ said Rose, stepping up with an encouraging smile. ‘It could be important. It’s to do with Colonel Raskoph.’ 

The young man got to his feet, and Scorpius spotted the security pass hanging around his neck, the name ‘Lorenz Mueller’ visible. ‘Everyone wants to know about Colonel Raskoph. We have released all the records we _have_ on Colonel Raskoph…’ 

‘It’s not _just_ about him,’ said Scorpius. ‘Look, this might be a bit of an odd query, but I really want to know about someone who - well, I tried looking him up in England, but I hit Alliance security obstacles and was told to ask _here_. I don’t know if he was an enemy of yours… Cassian Malfoy.’ 

Mueller sighed. ‘I’m an archivist, and the Alliance Archives is not in the habit of giving out -’ 

‘That’ll do, Lorenz.’ 

All three spun at the voice from the stacks to see a looming shadow. But it diminished as the figure drew closer, monstrous tricks of flickering firelight fading to show nothing more than an elderly witch, straight-backed and clear-eyed despite her advanced years. The dust and shadows of the archives hung around her like a shroud, but when her gaze landed on Scorpius, he had to take a step back as they pierced straight through him. 

‘My name is Adeline Bachelet. I am the Keeper of these archives, and while my young associate is correct in that we do not simply hand out our old records, this knowledge is kept for a purpose.’ 

Scorpius felt his throat tighten as she advanced towards him, and straightened. ‘I hope we come with a good purpose. I really don’t know for sure. I want to check up on someone - look, I should start from the beginning, my name’s Scorpius -’ 

‘Malfoy. Isn’t it?’ She was in front of him now, and a wrinkled hand came up to his chin. He fought the instinct to pull back, and she turned his face this way and that, bright gaze still piercing. ‘What are you? His brother’s grandson?’ 

‘Great-grandson,’ Scorpius creaked. ‘You knew him? I’m right, aren’t I, he _did_ have something to do with the Alliance…’ 

A creased old face folded even more with pain. ‘Cassian. Yes. He was one of us.’ 

Scorpius felt a wave of relief as Rose piped up. ‘We have reason to believe finding more about Cassian might find us more about Joachim Raskoph.’ 

‘Ah.’ Bachelet pulled back, gaze pinching. ‘So suddenly the Malfoy family cares.’ 

Scorpius blinked. ‘What do you mean?’ 

She walked to a desk and pulled up the chair behind it. ‘Cassian died eighty years ago. Would you believe that you’re the _first_ Malfoy to come here and ask questions?’ 

‘Our family records say he died in a _hunting_ accident -’ 

‘A lie circulated by Abraxas.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘Cassian’s records in Britain were sealed -’ 

‘That is the default for all agents of the Magical Alliance. Except I know Cassian’s brother knew the truth, and he never sought to unseal those records. While there are specifics and operations which remained sensitive for long years, the simple fact that Cassian Malfoy was one of our agents did _not_ need to remain a secret. But Abraxas let the world think his brother lived and died a rakish, irresponsible fop.’ 

Scorpius thinned his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I guess fighting Grindelwald’s ideology wasn’t a very popular move for a Malfoy back then.’ 

‘And times have changed?’ The old lady tilted her nose in the air. 

Mueller stepped towards her, taut. ‘Madame Bachelet, we can kick them out -’ 

‘Oh, no. I’ve waited a long time to hear these justifications.’ 

Scorpius glanced at Rose, who shrugged haplessly, and turned on Bachelet. ‘I’m not going to defend Malfoy family bullshit to you, Madame Bachelet. I’ve been at the receiving end of too much of it. But I need to know the truth about Cassian Malfoy, and I need to know how and where he _actually_ died.’ 

Bachelet’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why does it matter where he died?’ 

‘Do you know?’ said Rose softly. ‘He died _after_ the war, and if he was an Alliance agent I bet it wasn’t a hunting accident.’ 

‘He -’ 

‘I understand,’ said Scorpius, seeing her shoulders tense, ‘that I have been lied to about there being even _one_ decent guy in my family tree. I know the Malfoys never stuck their necks out in the fight against Grindelwald; I know Abraxas was even investigated to see if he was bloody _funding_ the Thule Society. I don’t know if it was the truth or just vicious rumour, but it wouldn’t bloody surprise me. But this isn’t about that. I’m not going to try to justify what my great-grandfather did. I reckon I can’t. But if Cassian knew anything about Raskoph, knew things we _don_ _’t_ , then I _need_ to know the truth.’ 

Bachelet watched them with a tense, guarded air. ‘I say again - why do you care where he died?’ 

Scorpius bit his lip. ‘I’m not -’ 

‘Scorp, I think you should tell her.’ Rose’s voice was low. 

The elderly witch looked between them. ‘Tell me what?’ 

‘Okay. This is going to sound mad.’ Scorpius lifted a finger. ‘I have reason to believe Cassian Malfoy’s a ghost. Of the “trapped in this world, tormented by unfinished business” type. I believe that this ghost might be able to give me important information about Raskoph.’ 

Bachelet drew a short, sharp breath. ‘ _Why_ do you think that?’ 

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But I -’ 

‘You clearly cared about Cassian,’ Rose chirped up, stepping forward. ‘So isn’t taking the chance we’re right more important than vengeance against his family, when the family who _wronged_ Cassian are long dead?’ 

‘If there’s something to look into about Cassian’s death, then I will do it myself. I see no reason to share his secrets with the great-grandson of the man who _denied_ him -’ 

‘I _understand_ hating the Malfoys,’ Rose snapped. ‘I understand what it’s like to watch them fail to see the worth in a cause, in morals, and to fail to see the worth in a _person_ , in one of their own. But if Cassian was a man who said to hell with his family, if he decided to do what was right anyway, then this man, then Scorpius, is _absolutely_ the keeper of _that_ Malfoy legacy. We want to look into Raskoph because we have fought him, over and over, and we want him _stopped_.’ Her shoulders slumped, expression sinking. ‘And isn’t it about time Cassian _was_ remembered by his family in the right way?’ 

Bachelet was silent through this, piercing gaze flickering between Rose and Scorpius, and even when Rose was done she didn’t say anything for long, aching moments. Then she glanced at Mueller. ‘Lorenz, could you bring us coffee?’ 

The attendant gave a quick nod and scurried to the door, and only after he was gone did Bachelet press on, eyes resting now on Scorpius. ‘You do look a lot like him,’ she murmured, and then looked away. ‘You should understand how our operations worked. The Magical Alliance came into being at around the same time as the Thule Society, but it was not the great organisation history remembers; not then. It was not always popular to oppose Grindelwald, especially on the continent. We were well-meaning witches and wizards trying to cut off their shadow war at the pass. From as early as 1923, we fought Thule wizards across the world, opposing Grindelwald’s rise to power. 

‘British wizards were particularly unusual. Britain remained isolated from European matters until the Muggle outbreak of war. But Cassian worked on the continent for his Quidditch team. He saw much of the Thule Society’s actions in Berlin, in Warsaw. For whatever reason, he did not think like his family, and he was approached by the Alliance to work as an agent, operating freely in those cities under the guise of his formal work. He accepted and sent us information, kept close tabs on Thule operations.’ 

Bachelet got to her feet and reached for her wand, swishing it down the stacks without a word. Nothing seemed to happen, and she kept talking. ‘The Quidditch league was suspended in 1936, as tensions rose, and Cassian stepped fully into the Alliance. Across Europe, the US, the whole world, we fought against Thule Society agents seeking more power, more influence. We tried to cut them off at their roots.’ 

Scorpius swallowed hard. ‘You two worked together?’ 

She nodded. ‘I knew Raskoph, but it was Cassian who fought him the most. They had become enemies in Berlin in the Thirties. As hostilities opened, that only became worse. The Magical Alliance grew, we became the formal wizarding opposition to Grindelwald. Fought them in a war as vicious and bloody as the Muggle conflict, and Raskoph was only one of many. The two hated each other, though. So much that when the war ended, and Raskoph was unaccounted for, Cassian could not accept that he had died.’ 

‘I thought Raskoph went to South America?’ said Rose. 

‘Not at first. He only surfaced there in the Fifties. Before Berlin fell, Raskoph went to ground, and Cassian was convinced he needed hunting. That he was still seeking great power, that even if Grindelwald had been defeated by Albus Dumbledore, Raskoph was still a threat. Most of the Alliance was disbanding. Going home. Cassian did not get the support from our superiors he wanted, and he continued his hunt himself.’ Bachelet stared into the stacks. ‘He did not come home.’ 

‘Where did he look?’ Scorpius pressed. ‘What did he think Raskoph was doing?’ 

‘Raskoph, like many of the Thule Society, was obsessed with ancient power in the world. The first time they fought was in Tibet; Raskoph had accompanied the Muggle Ahnenerbe Institute out there. In particular, Raskoph was fascinated by the idea of long-lost wizarding cultures. He was convinced there had been stand-alone magical societies thousands of years ago who had lost much of their power come integration with Muggles. Purer people, purer magic. But he searched all over the world.’ 

‘And -’ 

Rose cut Scorpius off, voice softer. ‘Cassian didn’t tell you where he went?’ 

Bachelet’s expression tensed. ‘The last time I saw Cassian Malfoy, we argued. The war was over. Men like Raskoph would surface. This wasn’t about fighting a threat, I thought. This was about a vendetta that would get him killed.’ She smiled humourlessly. ‘I suppose I was right.’ 

But there was a rushing noise, and Scorpius turned to see a wooden box hurtling down from the stacks straight at Bachelet. The elderly witch didn’t move, not even with it coming right for her head, and it stopped only inches away, hovering in thin air. She swished her wand and moved it to the desk. 

‘What’s this?’ Scorpius asked softly. 

‘His records.’ Bachelet’s wand hovered over the box, hesitating before she swished and unsealed it. ‘I can’t tell you where to find him. But after he died, there were no leads on Raskoph. Everything was put in storage, like all the rest of the Alliance’s secrets. Here, so they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.’ 

‘Like the Council of Thorns?’ 

‘They’ve tried to come down here, though not in a while. We know about all sorts that they would no doubt adore to unleash on an unsuspecting world.’ There was a flourish to the old woman’s wand before she slipped it away into her robes. ‘They were unsuccessful.’ 

She had to be over a hundred years old, Scorpius thought, but he wouldn’t be eager to cross wands with her. ‘Listen,’ he said quietly, padding over. ‘I started this trail on Cassian because I thought it might tell me something about my father, and then something about Raskoph. But if he’s out there, if his ghost is trapped here, the ghost of _one_ Malfoy ancestor I would have actually liked to meet some day… I intend to find him.’ 

Bachelet stared at him, bright eyes again cutting like she was seeing not just through him, but through time. ‘There is one thing in there you may find useful, though I never could.’ She reached into the box and pulled out a leather-bound book. ‘It’s his journal. But I never knew his cipher. Nobody did but him.’ 

Reverently, Scorpius reached for the journal. ‘I’m assuming you tried to break it.’ 

‘It took twenty years before I gave up.’ 

‘Oh.’ He looked at it. ‘So, easy job.’ 

Rose joined them, looking into the box and the files within. ‘Are these his full operation histories?’ 

Bachelet nodded. ‘I will confirm your records with the IMC before they are released into your care. But it should paint the picture you need of Cassian. And of his vendetta against Raskoph.’ 

‘I wonder if that’s what he bloody meant,’ Scorpius muttered, rifling through what indeed was turning out to be page after page of gibberish. ‘Raskoph, I mean, he was saying something in Ager Sanguinis about it being so _apt_ it was me… I knew Thane had something in for me, but maybe _this_ was why Raskoph picked me, maybe this was some last vengeance…’ 

‘Then maybe,’ Rose said gently, ‘we should bring some Malfoy family vengeance down on _him_.’ 

Bachelet drew a sharp breath. ‘If you find Cassian - if you find a lead, and if there _is_ anything of him, if he _is_ trapped… you will help him, I know. But if you could tell him -’ 

She stopped herself, and Scorpius froze, anxiety trapping his throat, but it was Rose who answered, corners of her eyes creasing, voice low and gentle. ‘We’ll tell him. I understand.’ 

‘ _Oh_.’ Awkward realisation sparked in his mind. ‘Uh. Yeah. Of course.’ 

Bachelet watched them for a moment, then turned away, shuffling towards the desk. ‘Let’s get you some security clearance,’ she said, voice much clearer. ‘And then you can get out of my archives.’

* * 

‘So this is becoming a room of crazy,’ said Selena, stood in the door to the guest bedroom in her house. ‘I’ve almost missed it.’ 

‘The warehouse is almost up to spec; these are just copies,’ said Matt, magically affixing more notes to the giant corkboard he’d propped up along the wall. ‘Soon enough I can get a bunk set up there -’ 

‘And, what, _sleep_ in there? You’re not at full health, Matt. You need to be somewhere warm and dry -’ 

‘I’m not a packet of crisps! But I need to _work_.’ 

Her lips thinned. ‘I know you don’t want to think about Rose -’ 

‘It is not that.’ 

‘Okay. I know you want to get your father and godfather out of jail.’ 

Matt had his back to her, and took a little longer than strictly necessary with the next scrap of paper. ‘That’s _a_ motivation. Look, I didn’t quit this job even after Ager Sanguinis; I’m not going to quit this now.’ 

‘Except you’re getting that glint in your eyes of the crazy man who’s not going to stop.’ 

He glanced back. ‘You don’t need to be dragged into this.’ 

She glared. ‘Don’t. Don’t give me that “I’ll do what needs to be done” crap and then tell me _I_ can walk away. As if my commitment has _ever_ been less than yours.’ 

‘I didn’t say that!’ He turned, stump and wand raised, a map of the Caribbean hovering between them. ‘I just don’t want you to feel like _you_ don’t have a choice.’ 

‘How come _you_ can have a lack of choice, except with you it’s gritty obligation dragging you back into the furnace again. But when _I_ don’t have a choice it’s because I’m a weak-willed girl who’s holding your coat and self-respect for you?’ 

Matt’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t say that. I didn’t even _think_ that. I don’t want you with me because you’re - how did you put it? - a cheerleader to the smart guy.’ 

‘Alright, then.’ Selena folded her arms across her chest. ‘ _Why_ do you want me here?’ 

‘…what?’ 

‘You heard.’ 

‘Are you just asking me to list your qualities?’ 

‘Consider it rent.’ He was working his jaw wordlessly, and she tilted her nose in the air. ‘Come on, smart guy.’ 

‘I’m _smart_ , I’m not _smooth_.’ 

‘I’ll say.’ 

‘You’re -’ He waved his wand haplessly, and sent the map flying into her face. ‘Oh, God.’ 

Slowly, she pulled the sticky paper down, fighting to keep her expression impassive. ‘ _Really_ smooth.’ 

Matt tossed his wand to one side, ran his hand through his frustratingly messy hair, and said, very fast, ‘I could talk about how you keep me grounded and clear-sighted because you don’t get caught up in bullshit, but, really, that’s painting you as a cheerleader again. When I say you support people, that sounds so _fucking_ demeaning, when it’s actually integral. But with more time you might have seen Lethe coming, which _nobody_ else even came _close_ to spotting. And, I mean, you’re _hilarious,_ but you also understand people and politics which, let’s face it, none of us are really _any_ good at -’ 

‘Okay, stop, _stop_.’ Selena lifted her hands. ‘I was teasing you and now you’re hyperventilating.’ 

He was so crestfallen his hair flopped. ‘I don’t want you to ever think I need you around to buoy me up. Sure, you help me see the wood for trees and you keep me focused, and you listen when I’m working through a problem, and that is _all_ essential, but you… I mean, I thought the world had fucking _stopped_ when Rose told me the Council took you. We’d rowed and I’d let you slip away, and the thought that _this_ was it…?’ His voice trailed off, and suddenly the papers he’d plastered across the room were more looming because the walls were closer, the sounds of London outside the windows were muted, and her world narrowed to just his crestfallen, ardent expression. 

Selena drew a sharp breath. _I entirely brought this upon myself._ ‘I was teasing,’ she began, but her voice sounded small and weak, and before she could clear her throat, the door was flung open. 

‘Sorry,’ gasped Miranda, looking more breathless than apologetic about her interruption. ‘But we’ve got a Kenneth Alert downstairs.’ 

Matt’s jaw had snapped shut and he looked like he’d bitten his tongue. ‘A what?’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena in a low, detached voice. ‘My father.’ 

‘He’s in the sitting room because I couldn’t fob him off, and do you want me to make him tea or arsenic?’ Miranda sounded perfectly serious. 

‘It’s fine. I imagine he’s upset I haven’t spoken to him since my abduction.’ 

Matt cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t know you don’t get on.’ 

‘We don’t not get on. We don’t _anything_ , because he’s nothing.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to the door. ‘Put the kettle on, Miranda, darling, and Matt? Don’t worry, and get back to work.’ 

She suspected he’d do no such thing, but so long as he stayed in his room, she didn’t care. Her father was one part of her life where Miranda knew more than anyone else, and anyone else could remain in ignorance. 

Kenneth had settled in the living room, because boundaries were something that happened to other people unless they’d been made literally impassible, and hopped to his feet like an excited Labrador when she stepped in. Miranda tried to drift, invisible, to the kitchen. ‘Selena! Dear -’ 

She shut the door behind her and forced her expression to a studied one. ‘Hello, Kenneth.’ 

Kenneth Allerdice had once been young, fit, burly. Time had softened him, turning his muscle to a slight paunch, his golden locks to a receding hairline, his winning smile to desperation. It was that smile he turned on her now, oblivious or uncaring of her reaction. ‘Come on, you can’t “Dad” me now, after all this?’ 

‘I’ve not called you “Dad” since I was eight; emotional trauma’s no reason to start. What do you _want_?’ 

The smile took a chip. ‘My only child’s been abducted by terrorists and subjected to who-knows-what of torment while your mother stood by the wayside and did _nothing_ , caring far more about her precious career than her daughter’s wellbeing. You think it’s unreasonable for me to stop by?’ 

Her lips thinned. ‘I got back a _week_ ago. You were hardly chomping at the bit out of concern.’ 

‘Lillian refused to _update_ me -’ 

‘And you clearly know where I live and the press made no secret of my rescue, so I don’t see what the delay was.’ 

Kenneth gawped. ‘How come your mother gets the free pass while I -’ 

‘I’m not discussing Mum with you. We tried that, it didn’t end well, and you should be grateful because you’re not going to come better off out of that conflict. At least Mum had a _world_ to save.’ 

‘I’m _sorry_ I’m not a crazy soldier or a powerful politician; I’m sorry I _couldn_ _’t_ do anything to save you, and so that makes me worse than the person who _could_ but didn’t out of, what, duty -’ 

_So I guess I_ am _discussing Mum with you_. She wasn’t surprised. This always happened. ‘I’m going to ask again, Kenneth - what do you _want_?’ She saw the kitchen door creak open an inch, saw Miranda peer through the gap, and then the door shut again. That was going to require an apology later. At least she didn’t mind apologising to Miranda. ‘Is it money?’ 

His jaw dropped. ‘I have _never_ asked you for money -’ 

‘Only because I’ve not _had_ any. You asked Mum for money plenty of times.’ 

‘I thought we could go for a walk. Talk about stuff. We’ve missed so much, Selena -’ 

‘Why not talk here?’ Her back straightened. ‘Or are we more likely to be spotted by the press outside, so they can snap some pictures of you and you’re back in the public eye? Are they sick of you dishing the dirt on Mum, have they realised that you’re a sad and pathetic man trying to bring her down just to get _attention_ , so now you want to exploit _me_? Drum up some attention for your latest business gambit or -’ 

‘ _You are my daughter and you almost died!_ ’ Kenneth thundered at last. ‘Maybe I haven’t been a perfect father, but what kind of _monster_ do you think I am to not care about that?’ 

He was bigger than her, broader than her, and once Selena might have shrunk back from the anger. Not that she’d ever feared him truly, and these days she’d faced worse. ‘You disappeared after the Phlegethon Crisis once your fifteen minutes of fame were over. You didn’t even show up after Ager Sanguinis -’ 

‘Your _mother_ kept me away.’ 

‘And I can’t imagine _why_!’ 

He jabbed a finger at her. ‘She’s flitted off to Switzerland, fussing about the world and her standing, and yet _I_ get all the criticism -’ 

‘It’s not complicated, Kenneth, so I’ll keep it short,’ she interrupted. ‘Mum might have a whole load of responsibilities which sometimes stop me from being her priority, but I accept that. It’s the price of her work, it’s the price of her duty, and honestly, the idea that she’d neglect the wellbeing of hundreds of people just to kiss my boo-boos is terrifying.’ 

‘Yes, your “boo-boos”; she would have you think about traumatic attacks in such a dismissive way, she _would_ have you downplaying everything you suffered, because then she can justify leaving you alone, can’t she? She is _just_ as bad as me; the only difference is your mother’s manipulated you into _accepting_ this.’ 

Selena’s chest tightened. ‘When Methuselah died, it was _Mum_ who came to me. _You_ used me, my pain, my _grief_ for cheap attention -’ 

‘And she used it to seize political power.’ 

‘If you have to _justify_ everything you’ve done by arguing Mum’s just as bad, that’s _bullshit_ , Kenneth!’ 

‘I’m not! I’m trying to point out that you let her get away with things you hold over my head for _years_!’ 

‘Except she’s _actually_ there when I need her,’ said Selena in a low voice that came from somewhere deep inside, tight and angry. ‘And when she’s not there it’s because she’s trying to _help_ people. You were never there when I might have needed you, and only show up to benefit _yourself_. I think it’s time you left.’ 

‘You’re clearly not alright! And she’s got you convinced she _should_ be elsewhere, because it’s convenient for her to be elsewhere! You want to pretend she _cares_ about you more than I do; that she cares about you beyond a political kick -’ 

‘Okay!’ The hallway door swung open and there stood Matt, jaw tight, shoulders squared. ‘She told you to leave.’ 

Kenneth rounded on him, expression pinched, indignant. ‘Who the hell are you?’ 

‘The guy who’s telling you to go.’ Even if his right arm was in a sling, even if his wand was tucked away, Matt still strode over to Kenneth and grabbed him by the arm. ‘ _Now_.’ 

Selena’s breath caught. ‘ _Matt_ -’ 

‘We can do this the easy way, _Kenneth_ , or the hard way, and I’m sure I can have your companies investigated and audited by the DMLE’s Legal Affairs…’ 

The threat struck home, or Matt was stronger than he looked, or Kenneth just plain knew when to quit. He grumbled, he yanked his arm free of Matt’s grip, but he was still ushered, bullied, shoved out into the street, and the door behind him slammed shut. When Matt stomped back into the living room, his face was a mask of anger. ‘The audacious _bastard_ -’ 

‘I didn’t ask you to do that,’ said Selena, voice low and cold. Her heart thudded in her ears, but her stomach was a block of ice, and still her father’s words echoed through her. ‘I had that under control.’ 

‘He was _ignoring_ you and talking shit about -’ 

‘I can handle myself, Matt!’ 

His eyes widened, indignant now. ‘I didn’t want to just stand there and listen -’ 

‘You didn’t _have_ to listen -’ 

‘Shouting carries through floors!’ 

‘Then get earplugs!’ Selena snapped. ‘Or just ignore it, because that was _none_ of your business, and I don’t need _you_ riding in like the knight in shining armour to fight my battles _for_ me uninvited, as if that makes everything _okay_!’ 

The door to the kitchen had creaked open once more as Miranda tested the waters. In the thudding silence that followed, she heard it creak shut again. 

Matt’s chest was heaving. ‘What do you mean, as if that makes -’ 

‘You’re all the _fucking_ same, aren’t you?’ Her head was spinning, Kenneth’s accusations in her mouth and tasting of bitter truths. ‘Ignore me when I’m inconvenient, let me downplay my problems, swan in like saviours when it suits you! Show off with the big problems but never, _ever_ go out of your way for me in the quiet times and always, _always_ leave me! Kenneth! Mum! Albus fucking _abandoned_ us, Rose’s pain is _always_ worse! _You_!’ That was to Matt, but then she jabbed a finger at the kitchen door. ‘And you, Miranda, I _know_ you’re listening!’ 

The kitchen door swung open slowly, Miranda’s expression collapsed. ‘…I was more a captive audience than an eavesdropper -’ 

‘Methuselah _died_ , my boyfriend _died_ , and you let me piss around in tea shops pretending it was _nothing_ \- did you _really_ think that was fucking _nothing_ , Miranda?’ Emotion burst up in her chest and she felt the tears spilling, those frustrating tears which would make people, especially men, try to shut down when she didn’t need comforting. She needed _anger_ , and she needed to be heard. ‘Did you really think I was a monster who screwed around with a guy and then didn’t _care_ when he _sacrificed_ himself for us?’ 

Miranda looked beyond shocked to have wounds almost three years old torn into. ‘I… thought you didn’t want to think about it, so I let you -’ 

‘ _Bullshit_! You didn’t _want_ to deal with my _awkward grief_ , so you let me keep on _lying_ to myself!’ She rounded on Matt next, and jabbed him in the chest. ‘And _you_. The world can look like it’s ending when I’m in risk of dying, but when _precious_ Rose needs you, you’ll let me “slip away”?’ 

His expression twisted. ‘You _ran_ from me, Selena! I made my fuck ups, but this was both -’ 

‘I ran from you because you were going to _ditch_ me as an inconvenience for Rose, because that is what people fucking _do to me_!’ 

He reeled from that, and Miranda did too, both of them wide-eyed, appalled, and even Selena didn’t know if she was bursting with truths long locked up or just the sort of pain and bitterness her father always stirred in her. She didn’t wholly care. ‘And then you find your _balls_ and leave Rose, and, what, waltz in, hoping I’d _forgive_ you -’ 

‘No! I - I did come to you hoping, I just mean -’ 

‘And if she decides she doesn’t want Scorpius, she wants _you_ , you’ll disappear -’ 

‘I will _not_ ,’ snapped Matt, squaring his shoulders, ‘because she and I will never beanything -’ 

‘So, now, you’re here. With me. Spending time with me. Because _you_ _’ve_ had _your_ revelation and realised everything you did was _wrong_.’ Her lip curled. ‘Maybe I don’t regret _my_ actions that badly.’ 

His jaw dropped. ‘Selena -’ 

‘I think it’s time you went the fuck home, or to your precious warehouse of your precious - your precious _crusade_!’ Selena snarled. ‘I’m going out. You better be gone by the time I’m back.’ 

Miranda tried to slip closer. ‘Hey -’ 

‘And don’t you even _start_ ,’ she snapped, then turned on her heel, stalked to the door. Her wand shook in her grip as she left, bursting without a coat into the freezing November air of London, but she had a way to go until she could find the alleyway she could safely Disapparate from, and that gave her enough time to get it under control. 

Control. Control. Always control. 


	24. Of Blood and Custom

‘It’s a bit bare, but it’s at short notice,’ said Ron, gesturing across the flat the DMLE had mercifully arranged for Eva. 

‘It’s fine. I don’t need creature comforts. A bed and a kitchen and Floo and I’m fine.’ Eva looked at the threadbare furnishings, the plain floorboards, and decided she didn’t care if it was a bit cold. She was out of Ginny Potter’s house, and that was what mattered. ‘So, that briefing.’ 

Ron glanced to Albus. ‘I thought I’d let you settle in.’ 

‘Not necessary.’ Eva moved to the window that had blinds, not curtains, and clasped her hands behind her back. She knew she was lapsing into the old body language she’d assumed as a merc before a job: professional, detached. Old habits loaned the illusion of control. ‘I’m here to work.’ 

Albus sat on the nearest hard-backed chair. ‘She’s got a point.’ 

Ron rubbed the back of his neck and nodded, also pulling up a seat. ‘I suppose. And we’ll be mobilising to Macedonia soon.’ 

‘Taking the fight to the Council in Greece?’ 

‘Getting into the country’s difficult; they’re setting up detection wards on all the major Muggle transport routes and of course Apparition and Portkeys are as much a pain as ever. There’ll be hiking, and we’re meeting up with locals who want to fight, equipping and training them. It’s a start. I’ve not had time for the Malfoy hunt.’ Ron grimaced as he reached inside his robes and pulled out a folder that looked too large for the pockets. 

‘He might be an important man,’ said Eva, ‘but he is only one man.’ 

‘And chasing him doesn’t necessarily stop people from dying.’ Ron opened the folder and put it on the coffee table. ‘We had no idea of his affiliations until Prometheus Thane pointed the finger at him. Thane was under a Veritaserum as brewed by Nathalie Lockett, pretty much the best potioneer in the business, so we’re taking it seriously.’ 

Albus looked up at Eva. ‘Has Thane ever demonstrated any ability to bypass Veritaserum?’ 

‘There’s only one trick to bypass Veritaserum. It’s called “don’t drink Veritaserum”.’ 

Ron nodded. ‘He said Malfoy got involved with the Council a long time ago, in its formative years. Back then it was a group of idealists and surviving Grindelwald followers trying to get traction by ranting about the “old ways”, which got more of a following abroad than it did in Britain. The Second War did a good job of purging such bastards or driving them underground; it’s why Britain’s never really been at risk of direct assault by the Council of Thorns. Lethe strikes and Hogwarts aside.’ 

‘Pretty big aside,’ Albus pointed out. 

‘Hogwarts was a test-bed and the Council of Thorns’ coming-out parade,’ said Eva. ‘Britain’s resilience in recent years to dark magic and pureblood supremacist movements is _why_ it was selected. If you can be hit, anyone can. And everyone was hit in the Lethe assaults.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Ron. ‘Anyway, Malfoy clearly didn’t let go of his old opinions that much, and so he got tangled up with the Council of Thorns back when they were smaller. His company has enough international interests that he probably met them when out in South America, or the like, which is why we never picked up on it. At the least, he was involved with the Council during the Phlegethon Crisis, because by Thane’s reports it was Draco Malfoy who ordered him to let the Resurrection Stone go.’ 

Eva felt Albus’ eyes on her again, and she shrugged. ‘I only _suspected_ Prometheus wasn’t beaten by Scorpius. Prometheus isn’t easily beaten - _Raskoph_ struggled against him.’ 

‘We don’t have much intel on what, if anything, Malfoy had to do with Eridanos,’ Ron continued. ‘Maybe he was part of the bankrolling. We _do_ know he was the one who sold you all out in Venice. Scorpius wrote to him before you returned.’ 

Now Eva could feel Albus specifically _averting_ her eyes. ‘Which makes Ager Sanguinis odd,’ she said, turning from the window. ‘They openly implicated Draco Malfoy as an associate, but they still used his _son_ for the creation of Lethe. I was under the impression they thought it would be more easily incubated in a pureblood, but what about Matt? Selena?’ 

‘There are purebloods,’ said Ron, ‘and then there are _purebloods_. Apparently. Like, you could trace Scorpius’ lineage back to the Norman Conquest and everyone in that tree would be a pureblood - though I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s the odd, scrubbed over exception. The Rourkes? I don’t really do this lineage thing, but I know reputations. While every Rourke in living memory’s been born to a wizarding family, one of them’s going to have married some girl whose grandfather was a Muggle, you know?’ 

‘So if blood mattered, even ideologically, Selena wasn’t the best choice,’ said Albus. ‘But Matt? His family’s pretty old.’ 

Ron shrugged. ‘Then maybe they risked Draco Malfoy’s son just to bully him under control. Scorpius makes good leverage.’ 

‘And Thane said that it was Draco as well as Raskoph who ordered Project Osiris, the recovery of the Chalice and the resurrection of Scorpius,’ said Albus. ‘Maybe Raskoph was after Lethe while Draco was after getting Scorpius back.’ 

Eva frowned. ‘When I was in contact with Prometheus during the Chalice hunt, he implied he took his orders from someone other than Raskoph. The two never liked each other. I wasn’t very surprised when I found out Draco Malfoy was in the Council; it explained why Prometheus wanted to avoid killing the Five in general and Scorpius in particular - though he definitely tried to kill you in Tomar,’ she added, nodding to Albus. 

He grimaced. ‘I remember. But if Thane’s loyalties were truly to Draco Malfoy, not Joachim Raskoph, I don’t understand risking Scorpius’ life.’ 

‘“Loyalty” is an awkward word to use for Prometheus Thane,’ said Eva. ‘I don’t think I’ve met anyone he’s _truly_ deferential to. He’s a professional, but he knows his worth and it makes him _arrogant_. I can’t see him respecting a man like Draco Malfoy; he wouldn’t want to march to the beat of his drum. I think it’s possible that he risked Scorpius with, like Raskoph, the intention of leverage. To make them _equals_.’ 

‘It would explain why he brought Scorpius with him when he left the Council. Dangerous game to play. But, back to Malfoy, it makes it clear that he’s not exactly ruling supreme in the Council of Thorns,’ said Ron. 

‘Not if Raskoph, outranking him, wanted to use and even _kill_ his son. Not if Thane, working for him more directly, was also willing to manipulate and exploit his son,’ Albus mused. 

‘One thing’s clear,’ said Ron. ‘Malfoy knew when the Saint Annard mission went down, because he as gone by the time Thane implicated him. He _knew_ we’d be coming for him.’ 

‘Is it possible,’ said Eva, ‘that he’s just been killed by the Council? He’s been cut off from his resources, and it seems like they was using him more than following him. He likely knows a lot about their operations. He might be a loose end they’ve tied off. Permanently.’ 

‘We have no indication he’s dead,’ said Albus. She suspected he was being stubborn because he didn’t like the implications, rather than disagreeing with her logic. ‘So we have to get into where he might bloody be now.’ 

‘There are two options,’ said Ron wryly. ‘Either he’s in hiding with the Council or he’s in hiding _from_ the Council.’ 

‘Either one takes money,’ said Eva. 

‘His accounts have been frozen or are in Scorpius’ hands - and yes, we’re monitoring Scorpius’ spending,’ said Ron shamelessly. ‘No activity we can’t account for.’ 

‘He’s a rich man.’ She shrugged. ‘He’ll have hidden money in all sorts of places. But there’ll be a paper trail - look, he could be anywhere in the world. We can ask our various contacts, but until someone hears or sees something, we have to track him through infrastructure.’ 

‘I’ve gone through his company,’ said Ron. ‘I’ve gone through his ex-wife. Every scrap of money, account or project or holding, that they know of, is accounted for.’ 

‘What about the companies he secretly bought out for the Lethe smuggling? He had to have diverted funds for that. Presumably he hid his runaway funds in the same way,’ said Eva. 

‘The buyouts were overseen by the Ministry; I’ve had their records of the background checks and the entire oversight process.’ Ron shrugged. ‘Not found a thing.’ 

‘They obviously can’t have been that competent,’ Eva said, ‘seeing as they _were_ tricked.’ She looked at Albus. ‘I say that’s where we start. If we know how Draco Malfoy obfuscated his wealth that time, at the least we’ll find out all manner of his secrets and illicit dealings. And I expect that if we follow the money, we’ll find him.’ 

‘There is the possibility,’ said Albus, ‘that if he gets offered a deal, he’ll talk in exchange for protection.’ 

‘It’s a family habit,’ said Ron with a curled lip. ‘I reckon Scorpius is a good bloke, but I’d happily fire the rest of his bloody family into the moon.’ 

‘Speaking of,’ said Eva, ‘where’s his mother?’ 

‘Headed for the South Africa relief. Contactable by Floo. You think she knows something?’ 

‘I don’t know. I got a _vibe_ off her two years ago. She’s got secrets.’ 

‘Every investigator needs to trust their gut.’ Ron got to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you with the file, which covers a lot of the financial checks and questioning of his associates we did, but they were all dead ends. If you want to check the Ministry buyouts, the paperwork’s in there, but you may have to go to the source to double-check their work.’ 

‘They’ll _love_ us for that,’ drawled Albus. 

He nodded to them both. ‘Good hunting.’ 

Eva watched him leave, then turned to Albus. ‘I won’t lie. When you said you needed help, I assumed you were closer to blasting people with wands than going through background checks.’ 

‘So was I,’ Albus admitted. ‘But what can I say, you have a devious mind.’ 

She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t just hired as muscle. We should see about getting in touch with the Ministry -’ 

‘No,’ said Albus. ‘If we want to find about the buyouts, the companies he bought, the smuggling process, then we need to go to the person who blew the whistle on this in the first place.’ 

‘You mean Gabriel Doyle and that newspaper editor?’ 

‘I mean the person who put them _on_ that in the first place.’ His lips thinned. ‘Selena.’

* * 

‘I was supposed to be done with this place,’ said Selena, except she was sat on wet grass under lashing rain in a gloomy, foggy graveyard, and she knew deep down that she would _never_ be done with this place. Nobody had yet removed Scorpius Malfoy’s gravestone. It loomed near her, a vicious reminder of life and its twists and turns, right next to the resting place of the earthly remains of Methuselah Jones. 

Her hair hung limp across her face, and dimly she was aware she was shivering. She didn’t care; couldn’t care. Let the rain fall and the wind howl; there was no place which mattered on this Earth. Not more than here. 

She stared at the gravestone, stared at the name etched in the rock with all the permanency of death, and tried very hard to not resent the ongoing reminder that was Scorpius Malfoy’s name so nearby. But it wasn’t as if she needed to concentrate. She’d run out of things to say here, run out of thoughts, even with her father’s words hammering through her heart, even with all the roiling anger and betrayal inside her. 

They were new things to bring to Methuselah’s grave, but she didn’t want to come here and talk to him. She just wanted to come here and sit in silence with the one person who had needed her all the time. The one person who had been afraid _she_ would leave _him_. 

The wind whipped soaked hair into her face, the howling chill slicing through her clothes to bite to the bone, and almost drowned out the voice rolling across the graveyard. ‘You’re going to die of exposure out here.’ 

There were several people she’d thought might come after her. Some were more likely than others. She had _never_ imagined the first would be Eva Saida. 

It was an instinct to pounce to her feet, to go for her wand, but she slipped and fell to her knees in the mud. Through the veil of her matted hair she could see Eva, tall and still in the lashing rain. Selena’s lip curled. ‘What the hell are _you_ doing here?’ 

‘Looking for you,’ said Eva flatly. 

‘Matt sent for _backup_ -’ 

‘No, Albus and I came to your house to see you. Only we heard from your housemates that you’d gone. Albus went to see Matt. I came here.’ Eva tromped forward. ‘In part because Miranda Travers implied Albus might not be who you’d want to see right now.’ 

Selena clambered upright, ignoring the extended hand. ‘So you’re a _much_ better option -’ 

‘I’m an impersonal option.’ Eva let her hand fall, impassive. 

‘What do you even bloody want from me; I don’t know anything about where Draco Malfoy’s gone -’ 

‘But you know more than anyone about Draco Malfoy’s corporate buy-outs to facilitate the smuggling of Lethe. I need more information on it, because it might lead to Malfoy’s resources and thus to Malfoy.’ Eva looked her up and down. ‘But now is clearly not the time.’ 

‘No,’ Selena growled. ‘It is bloody _not_ -’ 

‘So you should come in out of the rain and then we’ll talk _later_.’ 

‘What if I don’t _want_ to talk? What if I don’t _want_ to be on-call for everyone’s _bullshit_ the moment they decide they need me?’ 

‘Ah.’ 

‘Ah, _what_?’ 

‘Ah, I realise why you’re out here and why you’re upset.’ 

‘You don’t know me.’ 

‘I spent a good deal of time observing - and underestimating - you. I _do_ have quite a grasp -’ 

Pain had turned to tension had turned to nausea in her gut, but it flashed back to white hot rage at Eva’s impassive reaction, and so Selena pounced. She went for her wand even as she tried to tackle Eva, and so the confused, angry attack was never going to work. Eva simply side-stepped and, easy, as breathing, flipped Selena over to crack her back down into the mud. 

The world spun as breath was knocked out of Selena’s lungs, and she gasped for air as Eva stepped back, wand in hand. ‘I am not your enemy. Not in this.’ 

‘In other things?’ 

‘I don’t _want_ to be your enemy at all. But I know better than to ask for forgiveness.’ 

‘Oh,’ snarled Selena, rolling onto her hands and knees, and only as she saw the mud rising between her fingers, felt the rain lashing on the back of her neck, did she realise she had to be an absolute state. She didn’t care. ‘You _know_ you were a psycho-murderer; I guess that makes it all better.’ 

‘I’m not talking about this.’ 

‘Why?’ Selena rose only to her knees, tilting her head back as if the rain could wash away the pain along with the mud. ‘Because I’ll be right?’ 

‘Because you’re not angry at me.’ 

‘I am. I’m just angry at _lots_ of things right now. Did you come to talk some sense into me? Because you can fuck off.’ 

Eva sighed. ‘I came to _find_ you. And then to try to stop you from catching pneumonia. And then to dodge your attack. But combat fatigue isn’t something to be _ashamed_ of -’ 

‘I am not _ashamed_ ,’ Selena thundered. ‘I am furious and I am _tired_.’ 

‘If you think those people,’ said Eva, ‘are taking you for granted, then you didn’t _see_ them when they came to Moscow. They were lost and they were broken, but the _one_ thing they could agree on was that they had to find _you_.’ She stepped forward, mud squelching underfoot. ‘You have _always_ kept them honest, rational. Since I met you, you have been the voice of reason, the _heart_.’ 

Selena really didn’t want to cry in front of Eva Saida. But her throat collapsed with the wave of rising emotion, and so she didn’t get her wish, bursting into tears and doubling over in the mud and rain before the gravestone of Methuselah Jones, a man killed by the conspiracy Eva had worked for. ‘I don’t _want_ to be their heart any more. I don’t _want_ to be picked up and discarded…’ 

She heard Eva mutter an oath in Arabic, and then there was a firm hand at her shoulder, awkward but sincere. ‘I am the last person to help you,’ came the honest words. ‘But they _saved_ you -’ 

‘When it’s life or death, they’re there. When it’s the aches and pains of everyday bloody life…’ 

‘Trust is - trust is hard.’ Eva’s voice now sounded strained, pained. ‘I don’t want to tell you what you should do, because I don’t know and I’m in no position to guess. I _do_ know you should come in from the rain.’ 

Selena slumped, burying her face in her muddy hands. ‘I don’t want to go home,’ she mumbled. ‘I don’t know _where_ I want to be…’ 

‘Okay. Well.’ Eva tried to haul her upright, and by now Selena was too far gone to care or fight back. ‘How about you come to a place where your family isn’t there, where Matthias Doyle isn’t there, and where I can make Albus Potter keep his distance. Start with a shower, and then we’ll talk work, hm?’ 

‘Work. Right.’ She didn’t have a better idea than to keep being pathetic at Methuselah Jones’ grave, and at least this alternative didn’t require making decisions. ‘Fine. Shower.’ 

‘And try to not die,’ Eva muttered, slinging an arm around her and half-steering, half-carrying her towards the graveyard gates. 

Selena let her, stumbling and staggering with her limbs weakened by grief and probably the biting cold, letting the continuous murmured curses in Arabic wash over her. Knowing she was being such a pain in the arse was oddly comforting, but still she couldn’t help one squirming curiosity within her. ‘Saida?’ 

‘Hm?’ 

‘How do you know Al isn’t going to just discard you into prison once he’s got what he needs off you?’ 

There was a long silence before Eva answered, her voice throaty. ‘I don’t know. If you can prove it, it’s not trust, and you can’t _prove_ a damn thing about people. Besides…’ Another long silence. ‘If I can help him along the way, it’s worth it.’ 

‘Worth being discarded? Or worth the uncertainty?’ 

‘Both.’

* * 

‘We need someone,’ said Nejem, ‘who’s better than any of us at rituals and arcano-theoretics in general.’ 

Matt gritted his teeth and tried to not think of Rose, who had always been the one to handle such on their expeditions. Though at least he wasn’t thinking about Selena, who was God-knew-where and under no circumstances wanting to talk to him. ‘We will,’ he conceded, looking at the papers pinned up on the wall of his warehouse office. Because he could think about work, and do something good instead of standing around dolefully. ‘But in the meantime, we need to know more about the Chalice in general.’ 

‘We’ve got Thane’s notes, Lockett’s notes, and our own analysis.’ Nejem handed him a folder. ‘None of it’s looking promising.’ 

‘Lockett seemed convinced we shouldn’t destroy the Chalice. Thane is convinced we _have_ to destroy the Chalice.’ Matt brought up his clunky metal hand to nudge the folder open, and glared at Nejem when he reached out to help. ‘Start with Lockett’s notes. Was there any indication there was another way?’ 

‘She looked. Hard. And she brought us a lot more knowledge of Lethe than we had, which is valuable, because that helps us understand the ways in which the Chalice is _powering_ it.’ 

Matt flicked through pages. ‘Almost. It’s almost like the Chalice is connecting Lethe _to_ the Otherworld.’ His eyes flashed. ‘I get it. Phlegethon was made on the site of Harry Potter’s death in the Forbidden Forest. Eridanos was made on similar ritual sites all over the world. But once they used up what was made on _those_ sites, that was it. Limited dosage.’ 

‘But with Lethe, the creators have got a permanent connection, through the Chalice, to the power-source. It’s like a permanent version of those rituals,’ said Nejem. ‘Lethe is feeding off the Otherworld _itself_ for the necromantic energies.’ 

‘But _this_ means that if we cut Lethe _off_ from the power source, then they can’t infect anyone else. The Inferi won’t even be infectious any more.’ 

‘And might die completely. Might.’ 

Matt nodded, heart thudding in his chest at the implications. ‘So severing the connection might not be possible, because Lethe is already - _shit_! I know why we _have_ to destroy the Chalice.’ Nejem stared at him, and he tossed the folder onto his desk, grinning. ‘It’s not about the Chalice, it’s about the Chalice being a constant bridge! Lethe isn’t using the _Chalice_ itself, it’s just going through the door the Chalice makes with its very presence.’ 

Nejem’s eyes lit up. ‘So if we destroy the Chalice, it closes the bridge to the Otherworld, and _that_ cuts off its power!’ 

‘Yes!’ 

Nejem paused. ‘So how do we destroy it?’ 

Matt pursed his lips. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is an _excellent_ question.’ 

There was a knock at the door, and Lowsley stuck his head in. ‘Um. Matt? Albus Potter’s here to see you.’ 

Matt had no idea why Lowsley would know this to be awkward. Perhaps he was just feeding off the tension in the air with unusual astuteness. He let out a deep breath. ‘Show him in.’ Making this operation a by-the-book Ministry research project had _really_ killed his father’s secrecy. Then again, Matt could put up with his father’s discontent so long as he was a free man to be angry. 

Albus was square-shouldered when he strode into the office, and neither Nejem nor Lowsley stuck around. ‘Hey.’ 

Matt lifted his eyes, pursing his lips. ‘Al.’ 

Albus watched him for a moment, then sighed. ‘I’m sorry -’ 

‘If this is about my hand -’ 

‘It’s not. I mean, it is. But I was coming here for a reason and now I hear that reason’s not really necessary…’ 

Matt narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re babbling.’ 

Albus grimaced. He moved for the chair across from Matt and rested his hands on the back of it. ‘I was looking for Selena -’ 

His throat tightened, worry and guilt squirming away. ‘She’s not here and I don’t know where -’ 

‘Eva found her, they’re together. Apparently she was quite a state.’ 

‘I hope you didn’t come here to _lecture_ me -’ 

Albus straightened. ‘Why would I -’ 

‘I _know_ I’ve fucked up -’ 

‘Matt!’ Albus raised his hands. ‘Eva found her. I thought you’d want to know. That’s _it_.’ 

Matt stopped and turned to his wall-chart, the corkboard of notes and scribbles and diagrams he’d hope, hope, _hope_ would transform into a means of destroying the Lethe plague forever and justify all of his hard work, sacrifices, _stupidity_. His jaw tightened. ‘Why did you want Selena?’ 

‘The corporate buy-outs Draco Malfoy was doing. Eva’s pointed out - it’s a lead.’ Matt could feel Albus’ eyes on his back, and still he didn’t turn. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘I lost my hand to Joachim Raskoph and these days I can just about pick up a _cup_ -’ 

‘You were brave as hell and I’ve been an idiot.’ 

Albus’ voice was low, but it was a small office. Matt stayed stock still for long seconds, and drew a deep breath before he turned, seeing for once the big, well-meaning guy he’d travelled the world with. Not the angry arsehole he’d staged a rescue mission with. ‘I couldn’t be there for everyone, Al.’ 

Albus blinked. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘Rose. Selena. You left, and you had your own pain, but I - damn it, Al, I couldn’t carry them _both_!’ 

He stepped away with a jolt. ‘I’m not saying you should have.’ 

‘Selena pulled back and Rose was so _raw_ with pain that I went to her instead of chasing… and that left Selena alone.’ Matt slumped onto his chair. ‘And I _knew_ it was wrong, but I let myself be blinded, and then she was abducted and I _had_ to find her, I had to - I had to make up for it, but she’s _right_ , what does it fucking matter if I can save her life if I can’t be there when she’s _here_?’ 

Albus was staring like he’d just been catapulted into a world of problems he was neither prepared nor equipped to handle. ‘What _happened_ between you two?’ 

Matt’s jaw tightened. ‘She remembered that everyone left her by the wayside when it was convenient. And that this included me. And decided that she was sick of indulging it, and I didn’t have a good answer.’ 

Albus pulled up the chair, movements rather careful and gentle for such a big guy. ‘I’m… not sure any of us have done right by each other. Not one hundred percent. But I think it’s possible you’ve come closer than anyone else.’ 

‘I hurt her -’ 

‘We’ve _all_ hurt each other. Look…’ Albus sighed. ‘I’ve known Selena a long time. And I grant you, most of that time, I didn’t _really_ know her. Because she is so good at putting on masks and false fronts that I think she even tricks herself a lot of the time. And I don’t know what that’s about, and you seem to have a much better grasp of who she is and why she _is_ her. I’m not going to say you’ve been flawless these past two years, because I wasn’t there, but I _do_ know Selena is _really_ good at doing things to herself. And it’s not fair for her to be angry at you for not savingher _from_ herself.’ The corners of his eyes creased. ‘That would be like me blaming you guys for not coming after me when I disappeared. Maybe I did need someone to. But I still did it to myself.’ 

Matt stared at his metal hand, jaw tight. With a furrowed brow he lifted it, and slowly, achingly, he managed to flex it into a fist and then open again. ‘When did we all get so messed up? Was it Scorpius’ death? Or were we too far gone by then anyway?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Albus murmured. ‘I do know I… would kind of like us all to be able to stand in a room together and not tear strips off each other.’ 

‘We don’t _need_ to stand in a room together.’ 

‘Maybe not.’ Albus shook his head, expression folding up with sadness. ‘But it would be nice if we wanted to.’ 

Matt gave a bitter laugh. ‘Yes, I’ll hang out with Scorpius, because we were _always_ good mates, and Rose, now, fresh off the breakup -’ 

‘Okay, point made.’ Albus faltered. ‘I think you did the right thing. With Rose, I mean.’ 

‘I didn’t _just_ do it for her.’ 

‘Good. Sometimes we have to be a little selfish.’ 

‘I think we’ve all been a _lot_ selfish lately.’ Matt bit his lip. ‘I hope she’s forgiven you. I always thought you - you could have helped her.’ 

‘She came to see me, after you left her. We talked. It was - it was good.’ Albus’ shoulders hunched up. ‘Merlin. We really have fucked each other up.’ 

‘Each other. Ourselves. Look…’ Matt forced himself to lift his gaze from the desk. ‘I’m sorry for being an arse about you and Saida. Inflicting her on you, I mean. I’d like to pretend it was to make you confront something you needed to confront, as I mean, you seem a lot more relaxed about it right now. But I really didn’t give a shit how bad it was for you. The jobs needed her, and I dealt with it by being a blunt arsehole.’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘Bygones. I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff by - well. Isn’t that everyone’s speciality? Making their pain way more important than everyone else’s?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Matt pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. ‘I need to somehow prove to Selena that I’ve stopped doing that.’ 

‘I’d let her calm down first. I don’t know if Eva’s the right person to talk her through it, but for all of Selena’s issues with Eva, _abandonment_ isn’t on the list. And then you can, I don’t know. Flowers.’ 

‘Flowers?’ 

‘You can tell I’m not good with girls, huh?’ 

Matt laughed, a genuine laugh without mockery, and was rewarded with the corners of Albus’ lips curling self-consciously. ‘I don’t even know. What to do, what we are, what she’ll listen to. She ran a mile and I couldn’t chase her _and_ help Rose, or so I thought, and… when someone locks themselves away, it’s hard to know when you’re helping and when you’re just intruding, you know?’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘And Selena’s straight-talk can sound a lot like her evasion. Because she’s tricked herself into believing it, so she thinks she _is_ being honest…’ 

‘Then be honest with _her_.’ Albus shrugged. ‘That’s all I can suggest. That’s all I think any of us can do. Try to be honest, try to be sorry, and try to not fuck it up again. And… try to forgive.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Speaking of, I meant what I said. You were brave as all hell on the rescue mission. Before that, even, on the whole damned _quest_ …’ 

‘You don’t… bygones.’ Matt shook his head, then his gaze landed on the bottom drawer of his desk. ‘If Selena’s with Eva, I suggest you don’t go see them yet. She’s pretty pissed at you, too, for running off.’ 

‘I did get that impression from Miranda.’ 

‘So. In the spirit of trying to be _less_ fucked up…’ Matt reached down to open the drawer and pull out the bottle of his father’s good whiskey, stored there for special occasion, and the two glasses. ‘Drink?’

* * 

Eva shuffled through the papers on her coffee table. ‘I can’t believe the Ministry could have oversight of this buyout and there are _no_ clues.’ 

‘I thought you make a living off counting on the government to be incompetent?’ Selena was under a blanket, hands wrapped around a steaming mug, curled up on the sofa. Once she’d been cleaned up and warmed up, Eva had set to work, else they’d have to make smalltalk and she couldn’t imagine anything she’d like to do less. 

‘I try to not underestimate my enemies. And governments get sloppy with lives; they don’t get sloppy with money.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Selena stretched. ‘There’ll be something here. It’s a good idea. But I’m not an accountant, and I’m tired as hell.’ 

Eva bit her lip. ‘Alright. Then come by tomorrow morning and we’ll go through it fresh?’ 

‘Let’s try the afternoon.’ Selena put down the mug and stood, fuzzy blanket in hand, brow furrowed. ‘Look. Saida. Thanks,’ she told Eva’s left ear. 

Eva didn’t even try to make eye contact. ‘I needed your expertise.’ 

‘Yes, but I mean…’ Selena sighed. ‘Yeah, that’ll do, won’t it?’ she said, and turned to the door. 

Just as it burst open for Albus Potter to stagger in. He had to catch the door handle to not fall, swaying on his feet, hair messy, gaze unfocused, and his eyes widened as he saw her. ‘Oh! Selena! You’re still here!’ 

Selena narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Are you _drunk_?’ 

‘No. Yes. Maybe. Yes? It’s allowed.’ Albus tilted his chin up defiantly, then ruined the effect by hurrying over to her like an upset puppy. ‘Are you okay? I know you’re all frantic and -’ 

‘ _Frantic_. Great.’ 

Despite herself, Eva shuffled over, just in case this turned into an argument as Albus’ sense of diplomacy was smothered under a wave of Firewhiskey. But Selena pressed on. 

‘I’m _fine_ , Albus. Just peaky. Obviously not doing as well as _you_ …’ 

‘I spoke to Matt, and he - and we went through _quite_ a lot of whiskey…’ Albus rubbed his temples. ‘He’s really worried about you…’ 

‘Worried enough to do something?’ 

‘You know,’ he slurred, ‘when you tell people you want to be left alone, sometimes they believe you.’ 

She stopped short at that, and tossed the blanket onto the back of the sofa before looking at Eva. ‘Tomorrow morning. Might be best if it’s just you and me.’ 

Eva gave a stiff, mute nod, but Albus moved to block the door, big hands raised placatingly. ‘Not what I meant. I mean that he’s really sorry.’ 

‘Did he tell you to tell me this?’ 

‘No! No, he doesn’t know I’m here, I thought you needed to know -’ 

‘I don’t want to hear about Matt.’ 

‘Then _I_ _’m_ sorry,’ Al blurted. ‘I left you all. And I know there was Rose but it doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt _you_ by leaving.’ 

Selena’s expression shifted, then set. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Al. You and I were never close enough for me to go to you.’ 

‘Then maybe I should fix that.’ 

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘What are you doing? Boozing with Matt, coming to paw at me for forgiveness? You’ve suddenly decided you need to play supportive keen puppy for everyone, not just Scorpius?’ 

Albus’ gaze flickered back and forth drunkenly. ‘Pretty much.’ 

Selena stared at him for a moment, then shook her head and headed for the door. ‘Good _night_ , Al.’ 

‘He loves you, you know,’ said Albus, then span on the spot and waved his hands. ‘I mean, we love you. We all do.’ Eva tried to back off as she saw Selena freeze in the doorway, and before she could respond, Albus had padded over, brought his hands up to her shoulders. ‘You’re awesome and we love you and we’d have died for you. But I guess you want us to live for you? Maybe not _for_ you, maybe _with_ -’ 

‘Al, stop.’ Selena turned, lifting a hand to his lips, and they all stopped short for long moment. Eva wondered if she’d need to dive out the window. Eventually, Selena’s shoulders slumped, expression softening. ‘But thank you,’ she murmured, and before he could say anything else stupid, she hugged him. 

‘M’sorry,’ Albus mumbled into her hair, but was answered with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek before Selena pulled back. 

She looked at Eva. ‘Tomorrow.’ 

Eva gave a wispy smile. ‘Afternoon.’ Then Selena left, and she was in the room with a drunk Albus Potter. With a sigh, she turned to him. ‘Why are you here in this state?’ 

Albus cringed. ‘Oh. I wanted to - Matt and I talked about stuff and I figured there was no time like the present, you know?’ 

‘ _Stuff_?’ 

‘Like - like Selena. Making things right.’ 

Eva looked him up and down critically. ‘Are you sure you’re safe to Apparate?’ 

‘I got Floo’d into the block. Okay. It took me two tries. I really upset a -’ 

‘You’re not taking yourself home in this state.’ 

He grinned a broad, silly grin. ‘Did you have any better ideas?’ 

_He must be_ really _drunk._ Eva glanced at the window and murmured Arabic curse words. ‘I think you should start with sitting down.’ 

‘Yeah. Good idea.’ Albus slumped over to the threadbare sofa and fell onto it with a grunt. ‘Unf, this is more comfy than I thought.’ 

‘As if I needed more proof you’re drunk.’ 

He lounged back, arms splayed out, eyes fluttering shut. ‘M’just gonna stay here. ‘Til the world stops spinning.’ 

‘Sure. Sleep on my couch. See if I mind.’ 

‘You don’t mind,’ Albus slurred. 

Eva rolled her eyes, but despite herself she was already moving, retrieving the blanket and sweeping it over him. ‘Yes, because when you think of me, you think _hospitable_.’ 

She wasn’t expecting him to move. But his hand shot out to grab hers as she was draping the blanket, and she froze by instinct. His eyes fluttered open. ‘…no. Not the word I’d use.’ His gaze was still bleary, but she’d never found his green eyes anything but piercing, tearing at her masks and control, and even when he was drunk it was no different. ‘I’ve got better words. Better thoughts.’ 

Eva tried to tug her hand free. ‘You should sleep -’ 

‘I forgive you, you know.’ 

She closed her eyes, and when she found her voice it was like it came from far away. ‘You shouldn’t.’ 

‘Don’t I get to decide that?’ 

‘I hurt you.’ She forced herself to open her eyes, forced strength into her voice. ‘I’ve hurt others, I’ve _killed_ others -’ 

‘You’re changing.’ 

‘I can’t change what I did.’ 

‘Then why are you trying to be different?’ 

Eva’s throat tightened, and her gaze flickered down, down from his honest bright eyes to the rise and fall of his chest, trying to block out the feel of his hand still holding hers. ‘I suppose I have to try.’ 

Albus nodded, and squeezed her hand. ‘I want to help you,’ he mumbled. ‘When I’m scared, or hurt, I’m angry at you, but if I’m thinking clearly, I…’ 

Her heart lunged into her oesophagus, and she yanked her hand back. ‘You’re not thinking clearly right now,’ she said, speaking very fast. ‘You’re _drunk_ , and I - I will get you a bowl and let you sleep.’ He slumped back, lulled into inactivity by the siren-call of whiskey, and so she hurried into the safe house’s kitchenette to find a bowl. 

By the time she got back, he was already asleep. And snoring like a freight train. 


	25. The True Old Times Are Dead

Scorpius had been left in a sombre silence for the rest of their time at Niemandhorn, and Rose was at first prepared to take that as normalcy. So everything remained at that detached, civil level, the unspoken lines harsh between them, even when they boarded the Niemandhorn Express. This time, Scorpius stopped when he got to a compartment door and handed her a ticket. ‘I got us two compartments. Traffic outof the Castle’s a lot less frantic than going in. There was space.’ 

Rose kept her expression studied as she took the ticket. It should have been a relief. It wasn’t that she wanted to torment herself with another sleepless night so keenly aware of his presence. It wasn’t even that she wanted to play with fire, see what she couldn’t have dangled in front of her. But it was another line, more distance. ‘Do you want me to take the journal?’ she said instead. ‘No offence, but without knowing the cipher, I’m going to have a better chance of cracking it than you.’ 

His expression pinched, but he reached into his jacket and pulled out the leather-bound book. ‘Yeah. Alright.’ 

She could understand his reluctance at parting with such a connection, so she tried to give him a reassuring smile. Once, he would have trusted her with something this important. ‘We’ll talk about what I’ve found over dinner?’ 

He paused. ‘Yeah - well, the dining cart won’t be as crowded so -’ 

‘So we can eat _alone_?’ She forced her smile to remain, to soften. ‘You know how I was being crazy on the outbound journey, pushing you away? We’ve been doing fine this trip, Scorpius. If we’re going to find out what Cassian Malfoy knew, we’re going to need to do this together.’ 

He flinched and stepped back, but nodded before she could press the point. ‘Alright. Sure. We’ll catch up over dinner.’ 

Then he fled down the corridor, and with a sigh she slumped into her compartment, sank onto the bottom bunk, and buried her face in her hands. Once, she’d lived and died on the thought of never seeing him again. Right now she was living and dying on whether he’d so much as _look_ at her again. 

_Of course_ , came a small, treacherous voice at the back of her mind, _you still haven_ _’t told him about you and Matt_. It had been an omission to try to make matters _less_ awkward. But perhaps it was at the root of the problem. After all, it wasn’t like their first, proper reunion, in his hotel suite, had been a superb demonstration of self-control. Keeping Matt between them as an unspoken barrier still felt easier and safer. Falling right back into Scorpius Malfoy’s arms, so soon after he’d come back, so soon after Matt had left her, sounded like a recipe for a disaster she didn’t dare court. 

And yet it would be so easy. 

Niemandhorn and its castle were far, far behind the train chugging towards sunset by the time she unfurled herself from her ball of self-pity and cracked open Cassian Malfoy’s journal, only to be greeted by the now-familiar nonsense in which he’d encoded all of his private thoughts. She grabbed pencil, parchment, and got to work, because work was always the best distraction. By the time she raised her head to look out the window, she couldn’t see the white peaks of the Alps any more, just the black of night, and she had made absolutely no progress in deciphering the sheer babble. 

It was time to stop beating her face against a brick wall. In every possible way. 

Long years of working alongside Selena had taught her certain things about packing. Some of those things included, ‘Bring a whole wardrobe even for a walk down the street,’ which was not a lesson Rose had adopted. But other lessons were, ‘Always, always, _always_ pack a little black dress.’ 

‘Pretending everything’s normal,’ Rose told her reflection, as she conducted the exciting task of getting ready and applying makeup in a bathroom cubicle she could barely fit into, ‘isn’t helping anyone. Time to stop obfuscating.’ It wasn’t that she was trying to mess with Scorpius’ head. But looking good made the thudding in her gut fade, made her fit in more with the high class of clientele on board. And she wasn’t going over the top, but she was entitled to look _nice_ for no particular reason, she told herself. 

When she knocked on his compartment door after a frantic half-hour, which had included a battle with her hair about which epic ballads should really be written, she had to wonder if she’d gone overboard. When he opened the door, rumpled in jeans and a button-down white shirt, she was pretty certain she had. But at least he could be on the back foot for once. 

‘I thought we were getting dinner?’ she said, with the slightest hint of a superior smile. 

He blinked. ‘Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you there.’ 

It meant she had half a glass of the table wine down her throat by the time he wandered into the Express’ dining cart, in the same shirt but dark trousers, a well-tailored jacket, his hair not so much tamed as brushed back, still rumpled in that way she’d always found distracting. 

She wasn’t sure if he’d thrown things on or if he was trying to beat her at her own game. So she deflected by putting Cassian’s journal on the table. ‘I’ve got nothing.’ 

Scorpius grimaced and grabbed the journal like it was precious. ‘How do you make progress with breaking a code, anyway? I mean, without the actual code…’ 

‘Cipher,’ said Rose with a distracted sip of her wine. ‘A code would be a seemingly-innocuous phrase with a predetermined meaning. A cipher is the substitution of letters for others. I tried the more obvious methods - inverted alphabet, that sort of thing, though of course if it was going to be that simple, I’d imagine the Alliance would have figured it out by now. Then I tried to brute-force it.’ 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. ‘Brute force?’ 

‘Oh, you know. Assuming it’s in English, then there will be certain patterns to it. There are only so many three-letter words, only so many single-letter words. So you find a three-letter word, start by assuming it’s, I don’t know, “the”, and then from there try to find a pattern, try to see if you can fill in other words with the same letters. Move on to “and”, or “are” or the like, if that doesn’t work.’ 

‘And that didn’t work?’ 

Rose grimaced. ‘It didn’t. Of course, if it’s a cipher into a different language, then that’s going to be a lot harder. Or it’s a completely different trick.’ 

‘So this could be worthless.’ Scorpius slumped back, expression crumbling so badly she wanted to reach for his hand. 

She reached for her wine instead. ‘You found a lot of stuff in Malfoy Manor about Cassian. It’s possible there’s something there.’ 

‘Or it’s possible the cipher died with him. And even if we figure this out, there’s no guarantee there’s anything in it.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I went through some of the files Bachelet gave us. Did you realise the two worked together? Like, a lot?’ 

Rose failed to smother a sad smile. ‘I got that impression.’ 

‘They had a whole long-term operation out in Finland in 1941, and then another in Russia in 1943, not to mention countless little missions. All of them trying to foil Thule Society activities out there. Most of it was chasing Raskoph, who clearly had _some_ sort of agenda, but I don’t see the pattern in any of it.’ 

‘I can take a look,’ she said gently. 

‘Yeah.’ He looked away, across the half-full dining cart, resplendent in polished dark wood and those handsome imperial blue furnishings. ‘And, I guess, Matt should, too. He’s the historian. He knew about Saint Annard.’ 

Rose swallowed hard, then reached for the wine to top up their glasses. ‘We’ll do that when we get back, tomorrow. Was it nice to see Harley again?’ 

He brightened despite himself. ‘Yeah. I’m glad to see he’s doing okay. There’s something he said to me, way back, about proving how I’m _not_ like my father.’ He sat up. ‘That I should use the Malfoy family wealth and influence to actually improve things for House Elves, rather than just not making things _worse_.’ 

‘I don’t think you need to prove to _anyone_ you’re not like your father.’ 

‘I spent eight months with Thane. My father’s on the run from the IMC. There are more similarities than I’d like.’ He shrugged. ‘I was thinking, if Harley’s trying to do things for the House Elves as a whole; they could do with wealth, property. Somewhere they can organise themselves, someplace that’s _theirs_. Income. Prestige.’ 

Rose’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re talking about Malfoy Manor? _Giving_ them Malfoy Manor?’ 

Scorpius gave a crooked smile, that vicious grin that was as much teeth as it was charm. ‘Can you _imagine_ my father’s reaction? _His_ father’s reaction?’ 

‘But - it’s your home.’ 

‘It’s _not_ ,’ said Scorpius hotly. ‘And I won’t need it. I _don_ _’t_ need it. I have no desire to go back there. If I spend even one night under that place’s roof, then that’s one night too many, I don’t -’ 

‘Okay.’ She lifted a hand, smiling. ‘I understand. If you’re sure, I think it’s a great idea.’ 

‘I might as well do something worthwhile with my life, hm? Now I’ve got it back.’ 

‘If we find something about Cassian, if we find what he knew about Raskoph, that _is_ going to be worthwhile,’ Rose said gently. ‘And you can make a difference without needing people like Prometheus Thane.’ 

His gaze flickered down. ‘It was - it was what I had to do at the time.’ 

‘And that time’s passed.’ 

It was his turn to go for the wine. ‘Has it?’ 

‘Lillian gother laws. You know she can order a full investigation of any IMC Councillor at any time? That Harry can do the same? There’s going to be no need for people to take things into their own hands, because the system is going to _work_.’ She tried another smile, even if this one was more serious. ‘It’s not an ideal sacrifice of liberty, but when Prometheus Thane was doing a better job of fighting the Council of Thorns and keeping us safe, something needed to change. I know what you were doing, Scorpius.’ 

He tensed, chin jolting up an inch. ‘You do -’ 

‘You and Thane, you saw yourselves as the necessary evil to protect us from the greater evil. You don’t have to be that any more.’ 

Scorpius’ gaze dropped. ‘You think a man can _stop_ being that? You saw what I did to Holga, you know how that ended.’ 

‘You’re talking like I don’t know you.’ 

Their eyes met, and she held firm, unwavering, staring into the blue-grey gaze she knew so well. When he was warm and smiling, there was so much more blue to his eyes. When he was cold or angry, the steel won, and he looked more like his father than she would ever admit. ‘I think,’ said Scorpius after long heartbeats, ‘you knew me two years ago.’ 

‘Just like,’ said Rose calmly, ‘you’re assuming I’ve become no more astute in all that time. Or realistic.’ She reached for the wine bottle yet again, and pretended it wasn’t providing tonight’s courage. ‘I assume you checked how the Falcons have been doing the last two years.’ 

His expression made it plain he thought this was cheating. ‘It’s just _Quidditch_ -’ 

‘If they don’t cancel the season,’ Rose continued, ‘I still don’t think they’ve got a shot at the Cup.’ 

‘But -’ Scorpius sputtered. ‘Neatherby has come on in _leaps_ and bounds the last two seasons! Even James has, too! No Keeper can save against them!’ 

‘That doesn’t count for anything if Shafiq isn’t going to catch the Snitch.’ 

‘He _did_ , the last _two_ matches -’ 

‘One of those was against the Cannons…’ 

It was a cheap tactic, and Rose knew it left a lot churning under the surface. But it broke the furrow of his brow, that new frown she didn’t yet understand and didn’t know how to ease. It could be hidden for the moment, and she could set him ranting - rather begrudgingly - about how good James was playing for his favourite team, how well they’d come along. 

And from there it was onto music he’d missed, and yet again he grumbled about the passivity of wizarding bands. But in return he asked her about Gringotts and her job, and for the first time she found she could talk about Egypt as a place she’d ever want to go back to. She’d been incapable of caring when she’d been there. But he grinned when she mentioned the excavations, how they’d outwitted the bureaucracy of their superiors to get their own team, and the incidents became a tale in her past, not a trial. 

The night chugged on with the Niemandhorn Express, and their plates cleared and the wine bottles - definitely plural - emptied, until Rose succumbed to a yawn that had been growing for a half-hour. 

Scorpius drained his glass. ‘We should probably turn in. If I have any more, I’m going to be a grouchy as hell travel companion tomorrow.’ 

‘Because we’ve both been rays of sunshine this trip.’ But she smiled and stood, and the two began their comfortable, fuzzy-headed meander back to the compartments. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Scorpius said, but she was going first and she couldn’t see his expression. ‘I just - this is awkward, and I was trying to _not_ make it awkward.’ 

‘Like I once told you, long ago,’ Rose mused. ‘You and I have _never_ been friends.’ 

She got to her door and turned to find him paused in the corridor, that knot back in his brow, shoulders slumped. ‘You’re right. We never were. I should -’ 

‘Wait.’ Each heartbeat was like a tremor through her body, tightening her throat, but she couldn’t stop. ‘I wanted - there’s something I need to say.’ 

That did not make him frown any less. ‘We shouldn’t -’ 

‘Can you at least come in?’ 

He followed into the compartment like a skittish cat and stayed near the door. Rose had to draw deep breaths as she brought the dim, orange glow of the lamps to life. She did not need another incident of Scorpius Malfoy fleeing her presence. Even if once she’d have given her right arm for him to be _able_ to. 

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘What’s going on?’ 

‘You’re hiding something from me,’ Rose said, trying to keep her voice gentle, even if the accusation thudded through her. ‘I know this from Legilimency, yes, but I also know this from how you’re _acting_ , because you’ve not changed so badly I can’t read you.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘And you can’t chase this Cassian Malfoy lead alone; you _shouldn_ _’t_ , not if you want to get results, not if you want to be successful, and I can see this burning in you. You want to find some shred of your family that’s worth a damn as much as you want to fight the Council.’ 

The comment on his family made him stop short. ‘I knew you coming was a bad idea…’ 

‘And yet, you let me anyway. Maybe you’re a weak-willed idiot, or maybe you remember that you and I used to actually be pretty _good_ at figuring things out. Fights. Problems. _Each other_.’ Gentleness was fleeing her voice for bluntness. ‘We make a good team, and this investigation matters to the world and it matters to _you_ , but we will do even better if you’re frank.’ 

He stabbed a finger at her. ‘I didn’t ask you to be here. Like you said, Rose, we’re not _friends._ You’re with Matt; do you really think you and me being close is a good -’ 

‘Matt left me.’ The admission almost stuck in her throat. 

His shoulders squared like they’d been turned to stone, his gaze thunderous. ‘He _what_?’ 

‘The night after we made plans to go. The night you were out with - with John. I came home, and Matt was there, and he’d packed a bag and said that he was going. Because he wanted to give me space to think about me and him, about _you_ , to make sure I wasn’t staying with him out of a sense of obligation, or…’ 

One moment he’d been by the door, stunned and apprehensive; now he flew over and grabbed her arms. It was the first time he’d touched her since that near-miss in his suite, his grasp so electric she almost pulled back. ‘You _cannot_ leave him for me, Rose, you _cannot_ -’ 

‘ _I_ haven’t done _anything_ ,’ Rose pointed out, trying to stop her voice from wavering. ‘But it’s _not_ just about you, Scorpius - we weren’t _happy_. I didn’t love him, I was just with him because - because it was better than being alone, because I was so _broken_ without you and being with him was the closest I came to being in one piece…’ She pressed on, because too much honesty was right now better than too little. ‘And it wasn’t fair to him, and he realised that. Even if you hadn’t come back, Scorpius, we shouldn’t have been together. It wasn’t right. And technically it’s sort of a break; he told me I should think about what I wanted, and that if it was _him_ , I should tell him that…’ 

‘Then _tell_ him that!’ Scorpius’ hold was tight enough to hurt, but she didn’t pull back. ‘Rose, you _can_ _’t_ -’ 

‘I don’t _want_ to tell him that! I don’t _want_ to be back with him!’ The words choked past her throat, and with them came a wave of release, the confession so pure it almost made her bend double with the ache of it. ‘Even _aside_ from you, Scorpius. Look, this is why I didn’t _tell_ you…’ Though she’d never imagined he’d react like _this_. 

His face fell, slumping like there were parts of him being dragged back to the Otherworld, and when he spoke his voice was a low croak. ‘I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. Maybe I wasn’t thrilled that you were with _Matt_ , but he loves you…’ 

‘He once did. Now he loves… a memory, a dream.’ 

It didn’t look like Scorpius was hearing her, but he let her go and stumbled towards the door. ‘You have to fix this, Rose -’ 

‘I think the breakup _is_ a fix -’ 

‘No,’ he snapped. ‘I cannot come back and ruin your relationships, your life. I _will not_. We’re home tomorrow. Stay away. And _fix_ this.’ 

And with that he turned on his heel, opened the door, and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving her not entirely surprised that she now had more questions than answers.

* * 

Selena hadn’t stormed out of the house with her coat, and taking a long, scalding shower in a creaky bathroom while Eva took cleaning spells to her clothes had only warmed her a little. So standing before her front door, late at night, was a question of determining if her hesitation outweighed the cold. 

Hesitation was powerful enough that she was shivering by the time she let herself in, and closed the door louder than intended. She froze, but nothing happened in the gloom of the hallways. She took to the stairs, and lurked first to the guest bedroom. It was shrouded in darkness, but a peer through the half-open door made it clear that Matt had taken her instruction seriously. All of it was bare. 

‘Shit,’ Selena whispered, and slunk to her bedroom. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ And she swore even more when she stepped in and found Miranda passed out in the armchair by the window. 

‘Gah!’ Miranda jerked awake, lustrously long dark hair wild. ‘You’re back! I wasn’t sure you…’ 

‘Miranda! Merlin, you scared me - were you _waiting_?’ Selena stared, then turned on the lights so they didn’t have to be startled in the dark. 

‘You make it sound like that’s an unreasonable thing to do,’ said Miranda, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. ‘After you stormed off in tears.’ 

‘I wasn’t in tears.’ 

‘They were coming,’ said Miranda. Selena was reminded this girl had kept up with Scorpius Malfoy for the long months of their relationship. ‘And I wasn’t sure if you were coming _back_ , but I knew I couldn’t go _after_ you and… are you alright?’ 

She cringed as she spoke, and with a sigh Selena perched on the edge of her bed. ‘I’m… better,’ she decided. ‘I’m sorry for yelling at you, though. That wasn’t fair.’ 

Miranda brushed a stray lock of hair back, skin porcelain-white against dark tresses and pale moonlight. ‘If it were true, it would be. We _never_ let you hide because it was _convenient_ for us, Selena.’ 

Selena sighed, and scrubbed her face with her hands. ‘It’s been pointed out that if I tell people I want to be alone, or that I’m okay, they might do crazy shit like _believe_ me.’ 

‘After Phlegethon, when Methuselah died…’ Miranda grimaced. ‘We didn’t believe you. I mean, I didn’t think it _had_ been a big deal between you two, I took that at face value, but I didn’t think that meant you were _indifferent_. You were just - you get very convincing, Selena, you know that? You tell everyone you’ve got it under control, that you’re alright, and even if we don’t believe you, we don’t know _how_ to challenge you.’ 

‘I suppose I’ve had a lot of practice at that. Lying, I mean.’ 

‘We see through you. You just don’t let us join you there.’ Miranda hesitated. ‘You haven’t let me, not these last three years.’ 

Selena jerked her head up. ‘I…’ 

‘Methuselah. The “holiday”. Even after, even when Scorpius died; it’s not like he meant nothing to _me_ , and you never once acted like I’d understand -’ She stopped herself, mouth clamped shut for long heartbeats until it seemed she could trust herself to continue. ‘We’re your friends. Let us help.’ 

Selena went back to staring at her hands, and drew a raking breath. ‘I’m not sure how,’ she murmured. 

‘Talk, maybe? And talk like you trust us to listen, not judge, not ditch you… because we won’t?’ 

Selena pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and gritted her teeth before she managed to give Miranda a guilty look. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’ 

Miranda joined her on the bed, put an arm around her with more of the casual ease and understanding closeness that even Rose had ever managed - because while Selena knew Rose understood her more, had walked with her through fire, there were some simple affections that came only from time, and from not being an emotionally-stunted Weasley. 

‘How about,’ Miranda Travers said gently, ‘you tell me about Methuselah Jones?’

* * 

‘If de Sablé isn’t in this warehouse by _dusk_ ,’ Matt yelled out the door of his office at his frantic team the next afternoon, ‘then I want us to cook up a fucking _summoning_ ritual!’ 

Lowsley looked up from his desk, on which teetered a large pile of dusty volumes he’d been poring through. ‘Last reports said he has a Portkey in from Venice at five o’ clock. Which is technically after dark this time of year and he won’t be here until six with customs investigation -’ 

‘Bloody hell.’ Matt scowled. ‘Send word down to the DIMC, tell them we _need_ this man as soon as possible and to fast-track him.’ 

‘They _hate_ processing de Sablé; where the hell do they file an eight hundred year-old immigrant?’ 

‘You’re saying this like I give a damn. So long as he’s -’ 

‘Doyle!’ 

Matt snapped upright at the familiar voice, and tried to not glower as he saw Scorpius Malfoy striding down the line of desks, jaw tight, eyes blazing. It was an old instinct which made him resent the sight of the man, and deep down he knew he still wasn’t used to seeing him walking. In some ways he wanted to marvel at the miracle that had brought him back, but that was a lot more complicated than an old, nurtured, irrelevant grudge. ‘Scorpius,’ he said, much more amiably. ‘I didn’t know you were back.’ 

‘Just half an hour ago and we need to talk.’ Scorpius looked pointedly at his office. 

‘Oh,’ said Matt. ‘By all means. Make yourself comfortable.’ He rolled his eyes as he let Scorpius in. 

Scorpius approached the corkboard, brow furrowing as he stared at the papers, the intricate timeline of the Chalice’s history which Matt was desperately trying to untangle so he could find a starting point on his research. It would be easier once de Sablé was here. ‘…you’ve made progress?’ 

‘I’ve confirmed what we _need_ to do,’ said Matt. Despite himself, he walked to the desk and began unbuckling his prosthetic hand. His stump ached when stressed, and Scorpius Malfoy was walking stress. ‘I need to figure out the _how_.’ 

‘Right,’ said Scorpius, nodding to himself. ‘Right.’ Then he turned, jaw set tight. ‘You broke up with Rose.’ 

Matt blinked. This was not what he’d expected, and so he took his time finishing his removal of the prosthetic. ‘I did. You seem angry about that, so forgive me if I’m a bit confused.’ 

‘You _can_ _’t_ do that. ‘She _needs_ you -’ 

‘Have you been paying _any_ attention?’ Matt set his prosthetic on the desk and stared. ‘She _doesn_ _’t_ need me. She actively needed to be _out_ of that relationship, and so did I!’ 

‘You can’t let her go, hoping maybe she’ll return to you -’ 

‘That is _not_ why I did that.’ 

‘Or, then, being a self-sacrificing idiot and hoping she’ll come back to _me_!’ 

Matt drew a deep, calming breath, because this was as confusing as it was infuriating. ‘I left Rose for Rose’s own good,’ he said in a slow, measured voice, ‘but I also left her for _my_ own good. Because she is never going to love me, and we _both_ deserve better. I thought you’d be pleased.’ 

‘If you think she and I can swan back to being together…’ Scorpius’ expression twisted, and he turned away, waving his hands in the air. ‘Don’t be an idiot!’ 

‘I wouldn’t think it’s just _that_ easy,’ said Matt, brow knotting. ‘But I did suspect the two of you would work something out. Did something happen in Switzerland?’ 

‘No,’ said Scorpius flatly. ‘And nothing _ever_ will.’ 

Matt had envisioned all sorts of awkwardness arising between Rose and Scorpius from the breakup, mostly out of guilt. But none of his calculations included Scorpius losing his shit like this. ‘Scorpius.’ Matt’s voice was cold, tight, controlled. ‘Why can’t you be with Rose?’ 

He spun around, grey eyes steely. ‘It’s not that simple; we’ve been apart for two years, she’s changed, _I_ _’ve_ changed, and I wanted her to be _happy_ , not _needing_ me…’ 

‘You’ve barely been back a fortnight; maybe you two will find each other again and maybe you won’t, but I _do_ know it’s too early for you to write it off -’ Matt stopped, breath jerking in his throat as the mental equations spat out an answer, and it was like a punch to the gut. He stared at Scorpius. ‘You’re dying.’ 

Now it was Scorpius’ turn to reel. ‘I’m - I’m not -’ 

‘Or your return isn’t permanent, or -’ Matt flew across the space, and grabbed Scorpius’ jacket with his good hand. ‘What the hell - shit! This is why you didn’t come back, this is the _real_ reason you stayed away, isn’t it! Your resurrection isn’t permanent, so you stayed away, you worked with Thane, and you used the time you had to try to fuck up the Council of Thorns, _whatever_ it took!’ 

Scorpius slumped. ‘I wasn’t supposed to come back - we didn’t know you’d be on the _Naglfar_ …’ 

Matt just tightened his grip. ‘How do we _stop_ this?’ 

Scorpius’ head jerked up. ‘You said you’ve confirmed how to destroy Lethe. Is it by destroying the Chalice?’ 

‘That’s - yes…’ 

‘Then you can’t stop this. The Chalice is what’s keeping _me_ in this realm; I’m _supposed_ to be in the Otherworld, I’m not the first bastard to die from passing through a Veil. I’m only here because the Chalice dragged me back. It’s my anchor. It gets destroyed, and _back_ I go!’ 

Now Matt let go, staggering back to slump against the desk. What had a moment ago been the fizz of a problem to solve running through his veins was now ice and horror. ‘There has to be another way…’ 

‘You think Thane didn’t look for another way? Even _he_ didn’t want this. But he studied the Chalice, he brought it _here_ in the first place. He created and recreated Lethe. There is not a man in the world who has more understanding of the Chalice of Emrys, and this is the _only_ solution he’s figured out.’ 

‘He could have been lying -’ 

‘He said this under Veritaserum,’ Scorpius said bluntly. ‘Sure, that means it’s only what he believes, not an absolute truth, but he’s had months on this, you’ve only had five minutes, and he is _convinced_.’ 

‘So I will _look_ ,’ snarled Matt, ‘for _another_ way.’ 

‘ _No_ ,’ snapped Scorpius. ‘You will continue this line of research, the most _sensible_ and _effective_ line of research, and you will _find_ a way to destroy the Chalice of Emrys. And the moment you find how to do it, you will _destroy_ it.’ 

‘Even if it kills you?’ 

‘And if you _wait_ , if you _piss around_ trying to find a third way, _how many people die_ to Lethe?’ Scorpius was yelling now, red-faced, voice echoing off the thin wooden walls. ‘People have already _died_ because I was brought back to bring that _plague_ into the world again! _That_ is the price of my resurrection, and I won’t…’ 

But his voice was tumbling over itself, and as Matt watched him choke on his words, it was like this man - the man he’d hated, resented for so long, who had always swanned around and got whatever he wanted, smiled and joked his way out of every hot spot, got the girl and cheated death - was a puppet with his strings cut, and with a strangled sob, Scorpius slumped against the wall, eyes shut tight. 

Despite himself, Matt approached, jaw clenched, and put his good hand to Scorpius’ shoulder. ‘I will continue to try to destroy the Chalice. But research is a complicated road, and to find out how to destroy the Chalice I need to know more _about_ the Chalice. And if I see so much as a _hint_ of another way, I _will_ find it.’ 

Scorpius stayed silent for a long moment, chest heaving, but when he spoke again it was with more control, taut and pained. ‘If you delay, and that causes the death of even one person,’ he said, voice grating, ‘then that is too high a price to pay.’ 

‘We’re not there yet,’ Matt pointed out. Scorpius nodded, bringing up his sleeve to swat at his treacherous eyes, and Matt bit his lip. ‘Do they know?’ 

‘Of course not,’ said Scorpius thickly. ‘I was a weak fucking idiot to come back; you think I’m strong enough to break their hearts again?’ 

‘They need to know. Albus, Rose, they need to know…’ 

‘I know.’ Scorpius groaned, and brought his hands up to cover his face. ‘Rose… I didn’t want to hurt her again…’ 

‘You dropping dead all of a sudden is going to hurt her too; this being kept from her would - it would be worse.’ Matt locked his gaze on Scorpius’ as the other man drew his hands down. ‘And if you don’t tell them, _I_ will.’ He shoved him free and walked back to the desk with a groan, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I knew this had to get worse before it got better.’ 

‘It’s almost like the world fucking hates us,’ Scorpius muttered. 

Matt leaned on the desk, glowering at his prosthetic hand. ‘Here’s the plan. You’re going to tell them. Albus and Rose and your mother and whoever the fuck needs to hear it from you _personally_ , and this stops being a secret.’ 

Scorpius nodded, still slumped against the wall. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I know. I really didn’t -’ 

‘It’s done.’ Matt jabbed his index finger at him. ‘You just try to be honest. And _I_ will try to find everyone a way out of this pigfuck of a situation.’


	26. Halfway Down the Slope to Hell

Emerald flames twisted, twirled, and faded. The Old Rectory’s living room burst into fresh life before Scorpius’ eyes, and he let out a deep breath. The moments he took to brush soot from his shoulders were prolonged like the last breaths before a plunge, then he lifted his head and tried to give Rose and Albus a smile that wasn’t strangled. ‘Please tell me your parents aren’t in.’ 

‘Dad’s in Macedonia. Mum doesn’t manage mundane challenges like leaving the office.’ Rose got to her feet. ‘And you need to explain.’ 

He met her gaze only for a heartbeat, and saw barbed wire wrapped into a coiled spring. It was the same taut accusation as last night, the same guarded air she’d held since the start, but now it was joined by apprehension. She could see a change like a shift in the wind, smell the storm even if she didn’t know its nature yet. 

Before he could speak, Albus stood like he was to sally into a breach. ‘What’s the matter? Did you two find something in Niemandhorn?’ 

‘That’s not what this is about.’ Scorpius stared out the living room window, because the dying autumn was easier to look at. Vibrant green life had rusted, but the seasons, at least, would be reborn anew. ‘I need to tell you both something. You should sit down.’ 

They did, and still he watched over their heads. ‘Rose knows there are things I haven’t said. Some of those things aren’t secrets so much as… so much as I’m not sure how to explain everything that happened and everything I _did_ working with Thane. But there’s one thing I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to hurt you, and it’ll make everything make more sense.’ 

He looked down at them to see Albus taut with apprehension, Rose’s expression rather blank, like she could see the oncoming train and could do nothing. He closed his eyes. ‘My return is not permanent.’ 

_‘What_?’ 

When Scorpius opened his eyes again, Rose’s expression had barely changed; he could see the furrow of her brow, the bracing of pain, but he knew that all he’d done was confirm a deep, unspoken fear. 

Albus, however, was back on his feet. ‘What do you mean “not permanent”; you mean you’re going to die -?’ 

‘I mean my soul is tethered to the Chalice of Emrys. I wasn’t brought back; the Chalice was, and I’m just along for the ride.’ Scorpius forced his voice low and flat, calm and factual. ‘When the Chalice of Emrys is destroyed to end the Lethe Plague, nothing will tether me to the world of the living, and I will return to the Otherworld.’ 

‘Who says we’re going to destroy the Chalice of Emrys?’ 

‘Experts, Al. People who know that this is the most effective way to destroy a weapon the Council are killing _hundreds_ of people with.’ Scorpius’ jaw tightened. ‘Right now, they’re unleashing it on people in southern Africa. Witches, wizards, Muggles; they are creating an army of corpses that will leave more devastation in their wake. The Chalice must be destroyed. Thane knew this, Matt knows this…’ 

Albus staggered back like Scorpius had punched him in the gut, ashen-faced. ‘I can’t believe this - you didn’t _tell_ us? Tell _me_?’ 

Scorpius’ expression twisted. ‘I didn’t - I’m a weak coward, Al. I didn’t come back because I knew my return was only temporary, so I tried… I tried to make the most of the time I had. If I was a dead man walking, I could be a dead man fighting monsters. As coming back was otherwise just… just doing what I’m doing now.’ He tossed his hands helplessly. ‘Tormenting you.’ 

Rose looked up at him, and her voice was low, rasping. ‘This is the secret you hid from me in Legilimency?’ 

He nodded, throat trying to close up. ‘Maybe I should have lied on the _Naglfar_ , or run away, or got away sooner, but I - I was weak. I was so happy to _see_ you both again, after all this time, and then I didn’t want to twist the knife. If you’re wondering what my plan was, then you’d be assuming I _had_ a plan…’ 

‘I can’t…’ Albus brought his hands to his head. ‘I can’t do this, Scorp, I just got you _back_ …’ 

_I_ _’m here, right now,_ he wanted to say, but that would be twisting the knife, that would be denying the whole reason he’d stayed away in the first place. So all Scorpius could say instead was a throaty, ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Albus stormed over to grab him by the shoulders. ‘There _has_ to be another way. Some alternative to destroying the Chalice -’ 

‘To somehow destroy or contain all sources of Lethe in the world,’ said Scorpius, not pulling away. ‘Or to spend time studying the Chalice to find a different way to use it to end Lethe, when we know the route of research we should take. _Or_ to capture or kill every single Thornweaver and Lethe-based Inferius. How many more people will die while we piss around with those alternatives, Al? You _saw_ what Lethe did to Hogsmeade, has done to so many parts of the world. It is _killing_ people, and it needs to be destroyed.’ 

‘Whatever the cost? Even at the cost of _you_ -’ 

‘My _life_ has already been bought with the deaths of _everyone_ the Council killed with Lethe!’ Scorpius grabbed Albus’ arms, the words thudding through them both like knife blows. ‘Every single person they murder with an Inferius or by unleashing that Plague, that is a person who is dead _because I am alive_!’ 

Rose was on her feet now, hurrying to them. ‘That’s a person who’s dead because _they_ killed them; you _can_ _’t_ take responsibility for this. You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t _do_ it -’ 

‘No,’ Scorpius agreed, gaze moving between her dark eyes and Albus’ blazing green. ‘But if I do anything but support the most _effective_ means of stopping them, even if it means my death, then it _is_ on me.’ 

He felt Albus’ hands curl in his jacket, grip iron-tight. ‘So you’re giving up?’ 

‘Al.’ He grasped his best friend’s arm, met his eyes. ‘I’m not supposed to be -’ 

Albus pushed him away, and had it not been for Rose’s hand at his shoulder he’d have fallen. Like a beaten dog Albus stalked away, shoulders hunched, face twisted. ‘Not supposed to be here. Right. I get it. So everything goes back to -’ His voice cut off, and he turned to the fireplace. ‘I’ve got to go.’ 

Scorpius sprang forward. ‘Al -’ But he was too late, and Albus disappeared in a puff of green flames and smoke, leaving him there with Rose’s hand on his arm. They stood in silence for a long moment, until he dared turn to her, gut tense. ‘You knew?’ 

She shook her head, and oddly he was relieved to see the crease in her brow, the anguish in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her, but if he’d met that blank mask he’d seen in Rotterdam, that would have been worse. ‘I knew you were hiding something. There was the Legilimency, and just your _behaviour_ , and…’ Her voice caught. ‘Like it would ever be so simple as you’d come back and everything would be okay.’ 

He closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I should have said sooner.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Rose, voice shuddering, and when he opened his eyes, hers shone with unshed tears. ‘You should have come back and told us. You should have admitted it in Rotterdam, or to the DMLE. You should have admitted it last night. You should have absolutely _not_ have hidden it until you were found out.’ 

Scorpius turned, reached out a hand. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you -’ 

She pulled back, jaw tight. ‘You bloody idiot. It’s the _secrets_ that kill us; it’s always been the secrets. Were Albus and I supposed to think we’d got you back right until you keeled over? Would that have hurt us less, or was that just a pain you didn’t have to look us in the eye for? Like staying away?’ 

‘Rose -’ 

‘And you say this like it’s fact, like it’s unavoidable.’ She folded her arms across her chest, tilted her chin up a half-inch with that defiant blaze he knew and loved. ‘So you tell me you’ve changed. I guess you have. Because the Scorpius Malfoy I knew, the Scorpius Malfoy I loved, _never_ gave in, _never_ accepted defeat, and _always_ looked for the way out.’ 

‘You think I haven’t looked? You think we didn’t go over and over this? You think I should try to dodge death at the expense of someone _else_ _’s_ life?’ 

‘We’re not _there_ yet, Scorpius! We don’t even have a means of destroying the Chalice and you’re acting like it’s inevitable! You remember what you used to do when faced with an unwinnable situation?’ 

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Scorpius thundered. ‘I _died_.’ 

That made her step back with a taut jaw, then draw a slow, quavering breath. ‘I was going,’ she whispered, ‘to say that you _cheated_. When you _died_ , you cheated, as proved by the fact we can have a bloody conversation. You never cared for the rules in your life, Scorpius. Don’t start now.’ 

She turned away, towards the bay window beyond which her parents’ front garden wept gold, and he took a step forward. ‘I don’t want to peddle in false hope -’ 

‘Then go,’ Rose said in a strangled voice, not looking at him. ‘If you’re just a walking dead man who’s not going to fight, _go_.’ 

Scorpius stopped short, heart thudding in his ears. ‘That’s… well. That’s exactly my point, isn’t it?’ He stalked to the Floo and left, and the swirling chaos of blazing green fire was somehow more soothing than the thudding accusation and loss of her words.

* * 

‘I have only two questions for you,’ said Matt as Reynald de Sablé walked into his office, ‘and the answers don’t need to be long. Have you read the briefing packet, and what the hell was in Greenland?’ 

De Sablé stopped in the doorway, eyebrows raising. He looked bizarre to Matt’s eye, for even though he’d learnt twenty-first century fashions, he didn’t look like he belonged. He should have done; his black hair fell to his shoulders raggedly but in a modern cut; his tanned, weather-worn face sported stubble now, not beard. Perhaps it was his eyes, nut brown and gleaming with more caution and awareness than anyone Matt had ever met; perhaps the jacket hung from his shoulders wrong, perhaps Matt just knew better, but the world still fit the man poorly. 

‘Yes,’ de Sablé said, voice with that slow, mellow accent. ‘And I hear it is from you I should now be taking _orders_. Much has changed in my absence.’ 

‘If you want to continue fighting the Council of Thorns, undermining their work, then yes,’ said Matt, and stood. ‘You work for me.’ 

‘I heard of your injury. And your father. You have my commiserations.’ 

‘Neither of us is dead. I’ll take that. And I say again, Greenland?’ 

‘I had heard reports,’ said de Sablé, moving to the chair across from Matt’s, ‘of a dig-site managed by the Gringotts of America. An underground cave network which contained decorated stonework and masonry. The first tales spoke of carvings akin to the markings of the Chalice itself.’ 

‘In _Greenland_?’ 

‘It proved inaccurate.’ De Sablé slid a folder across the desk. ‘Similar, but different. I do not understand the relationship.’ 

Matt frowned, and flipped the folder open rather than picked it up. Photographs of stone and ice leered up at him, but the swirling patterns were not the same. He shut it. ‘We’ll put that on the back-burner. We have work to do.’ 

‘Yes,’ said a fresh voice at the door, and Matt’s heart lurched into his throat when he saw Rose there. ‘We do.’ 

He’d expected her to be worn, grieving, reduced. That collapsed figure he knew so well after all these years. But although her hair was still tied back tightly, although she still looked tired, there was a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen for so long. He didn’t know if he was pleased to see it, or anguished that he’d never been able to summon it. ‘Rose, you’re -’ 

‘Here, and here to work.’ She took a few steps into the office, then inclined her head with a hint of deference. ‘If you can use me, that is.’ 

De Sablé looked between them. ‘I shall take my leave -’ 

‘Not on my account,’ said Rose quickly. ‘If Matt wants to talk shop, he’s going to need you, isn’t he?’ 

Matt drew an apprehensive breath. _Because this isn_ _’t awkward at all._ ‘Are you sure you want to be -’ 

‘I’m sure. At least let me catch up on what you know. I promise I won’t go spreading it to the papers.’ She gave a wry smile. 

It was de Sablé who broke the détente with a hint of impatience. ‘I hear we are granted the Chalice, at last. We must shatter the Council’s power.’ 

‘That’s right,’ said Matt, trying to not stare at Rose. ‘We need to find a way of severing the Chalice from Lethe -’ 

‘You _have_ the way,’ said de Sablé. ‘The reports said so. All research is focused that way. The Chalice must be destroyed.’ 

Matt paused, and filled the silence by picking up one of the folders of the latest reports and handing it to Rose. If she was going to be here, she might as well be brought up to speed. ‘I thought you’d _hate_ that -’ 

‘Because I have spent so much time protecting the Chalice? I _protected_ it because I knew it was capable of great evil. I spent a century watching it warp Ager Sanguinis. It _fed_ on a site of great tragedy, on a place where so many of my brothers-in-arms perished. Yes, great good has come from that Chalice, but I have concluded that it cannot be the Lord’s gift to us.’ 

To Matt’s surprise, Rose just looked intrigued when she glanced up from the folder. ‘Why _not_?’ 

‘Because of that great evil,’ said de Sablé simply. ‘Only one being is capable of both such extremes: man. The Chalice is powerful, truly, but it is the work of men, and nothing more.’ 

Matt said, ‘What if I told you a man has to die to destroy it -’ 

‘Then I would call that man a hero, and be sure he will receive his just reward.’ De Sablé stood again, and Matt had to look up to meet the tall, broad-shouldered knight. ‘We do what we must to fight evil.’ 

‘No, we remain good people to fight evil. If I have to _kill_ a man to save the day, then what am I?’ 

‘And if a man clings to his own survival over the lives of hundreds? What is _he_?’ 

Matt let out a deep breath. ‘This is all hypothetical -’ 

‘He’s right,’ said Rose, and Matt stared at her. She shrugged, and leafed through the folder some more. ‘This is looking like the most logical way forward. You can’t afford to ignore this line of research.’ 

‘You know what we have to do. We’ve talked of the Chalice many a time.’ De Sablé walked to the corkboard on the wall, and shook his head. ‘You know the Caribbean is not the answer.’ 

‘Really?’ Matt’s jaw was tight. ‘Tell me more of what I already know.’ 

He faltered when de Sablé looked at him, eyes blazing. ‘Either you have the conviction I _know_ burns in your heart, Matthias, or you do not. You are one of us, a keeper of knowledge, but knowledge must be _used_. Speak of our next step.’ 

Matt hesitated. ‘Emrys,’ he said at last. ‘We have to look into the Chalice’s creation. If we know how it was made -’ 

‘Then we may discover how it is _unmade_.’ 

Rose flipped the report shut. ‘There would have to have been a power source, a creation ritual, to weave all of that magic together. If we find that, or at least more on the construction of the Chalice itself, then we can use it to unravel that same magic.’ 

Matt pursed his lips. ‘Okay. I’m just going to have to blunt. Rose, why are you _here_?’ 

De Sablé frowned. ‘I would presume she is lending her expertise to -’ 

‘I can help you with this stuff,’ said Rose, waggling the folder. ‘But no, I’m not planning to commit to destroying the Chalice. You should, though. You’re the ones who can do this, and you can save lives. But the more we _all_ learn, the more we all study… the easier it’ll be for me to find the other way.’ 

‘Oh,’ said de Sablé, and then looked a little ashamed as apparently the knut dropped. ‘Scorpius Malfoy will die if we destroy the Chalice.’ 

Rose’s lips thinned. ‘He has made it clear that he doesn’t want this team to look for another way, because more people may die in the meantime. And I understand his choice. I ask that we all respect his choice. But I refuse to treat him like it’s a done deal, like he’s already dead, and that’s _my_ choice.’ She straightened, tilting her chin up half an inch. ‘And I don’t care if you disapprove -’ 

‘I do not disapprove,’ said de Sablé, blinking. ‘I do not see why you think I would.’ 

She raised an eyebrow. ‘All that talk just then about how a man is a hero if he sacrifices himself, and a coward if he _doesn_ _’t_ …’ 

‘I should have spoken more plainly. If you asked me whether I would lay down my life to avert the bloodshed, I would agree in a heartbeat. If you asked me if I would slay another, an innocent? If I would sacrifice a kinsman for such? It would never be so simple.’ De Sablé inclined his head. ‘I respect your choice, Rose. And I respect his, and I agree that Matthias and I should hold to our purpose, and pray that God grants us another way.’ 

Matt watched as Rose’s expression softened throughout the conversation, even as she held the folder close to herself. When de Sablé was done, all she managed was a low, quiet, ‘Thank you.’ 

‘It is no ill thing to wish to live,’ de Sablé said. ‘I have spent centuries on this Earth, even though I slumbered, and now I am returned I regret that wasted time. There is _never_ enough time. There are wonders to be seen, people to know and love, glories to behold and kindness to bestow. We should save as many as we can, but you do right to not accept Scorpius as already lost. Else there would _never_ be hope. This world deserves the best we can give it.’ 

‘The world is a fine place,’ murmured Rose, ‘and worth the fighting for.’ 

‘Said one wise man,’ Matt added. ‘Another once added, “ _I agree with the second half_.”’ 

She looked between them, and he saw her breath catch. ‘Destroying the Chalice - does it endanger either of you? It brought you back, or kept you alive…’ 

‘Matthias, at least, will be safe.’ De Sablé looked at him. ‘The Chalice saved you, but your heart is your own, your blood is your own.’ 

‘And you?’ said Matt. 

‘I have not drunk from the Chalice in seven centuries. Neither one of us faltered when the Chalice was lost through the Veil. I _believe_ my longevity is now my own, just as your life is your own. Scorpius never drank from the Chalice, and so his bond is different. But if it comes to it, we must sacrifice. There is _never_ victory without sacrifice.’ 

‘I don’t know about never,’ said Matt, ‘but I take your point. The bit which bothers me about sacrifice, though, is making sure there’s something left to _be_ victorious.’ 

De Sablé looked between them. ‘I will speak with Nejem and Lowsley, take stock of our resources,’ he said, and turned to the door. It was clearly a flight to let them talk, but when he was gone, only silence reigned for a few long moments. Matt fiddled with the straps on his prosthetic, but she was the one to speak first. 

‘I’m sorry for bursting in,’ said Rose, lips thin. ‘I should have probably opened with that. But de Sablé was already here…’ 

‘It’s okay. Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re _not_ okay…’ 

‘I will be.’ She put the folder down and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I’m genuinely trying to not be in denial, here, Matt. He doesn’t want anyone to “waste” time trying to save him when it might come at the cost of lives, and I understand that. But I _have_ to look for a different way…’ 

‘I understand. And I’ll do what I can. You’ll have full access to all of our research. I know that if there’s anything to be found, you’ll find it.’ He perched on the edge of the desk, still not quite able to look at her. ‘I know this sounds crazy, but you look better.’ 

Rose drew a slow breath. ‘I have something to fight. And fight _for_.’ She shifted her weight. ‘I, er, I’m moving everything out of the flat. It’s _your_ flat. You shouldn’t be sleeping on a cot in here.’ 

Matt closed his eyes. It wasn’t that he’d expected her to come back, or even indulged the idea that she _might_. He knew he wouldn’t take her back even if that happened, not now. But there was a finality to her words that twisted his gut nevertheless. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. 

‘No, I… thank _you_ , Matt.’ 

‘If you’re going to thank me for the breakup,’ he blurted, eyes snapping open, ‘or thank me for _helping_ you these last two years, please - don’t. I couldn’t have ever done anything else. For you. For me.’ 

She gave a small, apprehensive nod. ‘Then - and please don’t reject _this_ _…_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry it couldn’t be different. I’m sorry _I_ couldn’t be different, because you deserved better than I gave you, and don’t look at me like that, like you’re going to tell me I had a right to my grief.’ Her words picked up momentum as he opened his mouth. ‘Maybe I did. But I still hurt you. And I’m sorry for that. I really do want the best for you.’ 

Matt nodded slowly. ‘I want the best for _you_. I don’t want you… clinging to false hope with this, Rose. But it’s good to see you fighting.’ 

‘I’d be lying,’ she said, ‘if I said I knew what I’m doing. But I have to _try_.’ She hesitated, and her eyes landed on a spot above his head. ‘Are we - I know we’re not _okay_. But I’d like us to get to be okay.’ 

He smiled, and to his immense surprise, found it to be a genuine smile. ‘Bloody hell, Rose. We broke up only days ago, and now we’re pooling resources so you can try to save your ex-boyfriend from death while I work at killing him to save the world. How can we _not_ be okay?’ 

But she laughed - a bitter, sincere laugh, and he had to join in. Even if he’d never been able to make her laugh like that on lighter matters, more jovial matters. 

They had not, Matt supposed, been as important.

* * 

‘So I went through all of Toby’s records, the ones he dug up legally and… apparently less-legally.’ Selena spread the paperwork across the coffee table in Eva’s flat. ‘It’s been easier to figure out which corporate buy-outs we examine, because we now want the companies the Council used to smuggle Lethe abroad.’ 

‘The ones we’ve identified,’ said Eva, chewing on a pencil. ‘Are we seeing anything particular from this?’ 

‘You mean, does it include a bank account, in the vault of which we’ll find a treasure map leading us to Draco Malfoy?’ 

‘I’d settle for a clue.’ 

Selena huffed, blowing a lock of golden hair out of her face. She was less of a state than she’d been the previous day, but then, that wasn’t hard. Eva had never cared for her looks; so long as she could be taken seriously, being pretty was not the priority, and her scar had long ago made her give up on vanity. But she could see how Selena used her appearance as a mask - a _shield_ , and now, in the evening light with a job in front of her and all scrubbed up, Eva wasn’t sure she could tell something was wrong if she didn’t know better. 

‘The guy who handled this is one of the Minister of Magic’s own staffers,’ said Selena. ‘Amadeus Candlestone. It was his job to specifically make sure nothing _like_ what happened, happened.’ 

‘The smuggling?’ 

‘Draco Malfoy buying a dozen companies under multiple false identities. There are complicated monopoly laws in Britain, and then there are complicated trading rights for these non-British companies operating _in_ Britain, and basically it’s all there to try to cut down on tax evasion. It’s _riveting_ stuff.’ Selena wrinkled her nose. ‘This is why I buttered up the accountant.’ 

‘But this Candlestone didn’t notice anything wrong?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Why’s nobody seen this since?’ 

Selena shrugged. ‘Because Draco Malfoy’s a proven traitor? And nobody’s _that_ excited by _how_ he bought out the companies, or if he was dabbling in tax evasion. This is incredibly boring stuff and if I hadn’t been sniffing into it for smuggling, I could not care less about it. So Candlestone fucked up -’ 

‘Or he let this one slip by.’ 

Selena made a face. ‘Oh, bollocks. That would make sense, wouldn’t it. I suppose I’m too used to Minister Halvard’s office being painfully bloody useless.’ 

‘You people don’t seem to have much faith in your head of state.’ 

‘Let’s face it; my _mother_ is the head of state. Minister Halvard was only in power for a year before the Phlegethon Crisis, and Hermione Granger handled most of _that_ while my mother handled the international reactions, especially when the Council of Thorns went public. Halvard won the election with lots of talk about economics and very little talk about a strong defence plan in the face of international crisis.’ 

‘An international crisis he didn’t really have the _power_ to combat,’ Eva pointed out. ‘The Council managed to do pretty well for itself because wizarding states were too busy bickering about their own sovereignty, or insisting that investigating suspects too deeply would be a breach of their individual freedoms, or -’ 

‘I’m really not here to debate global politics,’ Selena said. ‘I leave that to my mother, and I really don’t _care_ so long as we all make it through this in one piece. So, what do we do with _this_? Report Candlestone?’ 

‘To who?’ Eva rubbed her chin. ‘Director Potter and Captain Weasley are in Macedonia. I don’t -’ 

Then the door was thrown open to show the tall, ashen-faced shape of Albus Potter. Eva jumped to her feet instinctively, but she stopped short at the sight of him. His expression had collapsed, the glint in his eyes faded away, and while his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, she could see he was shaking. ‘Al…’ 

‘Holy shit.’ Selena got up, raising her hands. ‘Al, what’s happened -’ 

‘Scorpius,’ said Albus, and his voice sounded like it had been flogged. ‘He - he’s going to die, he’s not come back properly…’ 

Eva felt absolutely no surprise, but her gut still clenched as she saw how even the admission tore chunks out of him. ‘He’s on a time limit?’ 

Selena took a step towards Albus, but he shrank away, slinking around the edge of the room. ‘The Chalice needs to be destroyed to destroy Lethe,’ he said. ‘But destroying the Chalice will kill _him_.’ 

‘I see,’ said Eva, and she didn’t, but she’d never been the expert in these things. ‘So that’s why he stayed away.’ 

‘Why come back,’ shuddered Albus’ voice, ‘if you’re just going to go away again?’ 

‘Albus,’ said Selena quietly. ‘Where is he?’ 

‘He’s - I don’t know. He was at Rose’s. Bet he’s not there any more.’ 

Selena gave Eva a look, and she nodded. _I can handle this_ , she tried to say with her eyes, and Selena hurried towards the door, closing it behind her. So now it was just Eva and Albus in the close, bare flat, and he was quivering like he’d been frozen and staring like he’d just plunged into the abyss. 

_At least, I_ think _I can handle this_. 

‘Al…’ She kept her gait slow as she padded towards him. ‘Is nobody at home…?’ 

He flinched. ‘I - Mum, probably, but I… I don’t know, I had to get away, I just couldn’t…’ 

_You ran, because that_ _’s what you do when you’re hurt_ , Eva realised, lips thinning, and she tried to calm her thudding heart at the next revelation. _And you ran to_ me _._ She reached out, a quiver in her touch as her fingers brushed against his taut knuckles. ‘It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.’ 

He didn’t react to her touch, but his eyes lifted to lock on hers, voice hoarse. ‘ _How_?’ 

_Good question._ ‘Because it’s not over. Because nothing, _nothing_ in this world is certain. Because…’ Her mouth dried up, and she licked her lips to no avail. ‘Because you’re not alone.’ 

Then he moved, and so quickly it was her instinct to flinch back. But he was faster, like his grief had wound him into a coiled spring ready to strike, and she was helpless when he snatched her wrists, dragged her to him - 

And kissed her. 

It was a kiss unlike any before, even if they didn’t have many for comparison. There was none of his gentle hesitation, his careful affection, his caring warmth. His lips were chapped, his stubble was a sandpaper scrape on her chin, and his grip was iron tight, refusing any escape. But there was one thing in the kiss she’d never felt before: need. It rushed across her, humming through her every inch until it was met with the echo of her own, resounding in her emptiness, and for thunderous moments all she could do was clutch at him, let herself be helpless, let herself be washed away. 

Her mouth opened under his, desperate, hungry, and she felt a fresh shudder run through him as his hands moved to her hips. He did not surrender one inch of control, pressing forward, backing her into the kitchen counter with a _thud_ that rattled the washing up and would have hurt if she cared. 

He could hurt her. He could hurt her, use her, just so long as he needed her, just so long as he could reach inside and find that gulf she’d thought would never be filled. There was no more quaver to her touch as she slid her hands under his t-shirt, no hesitation from him as he hoisted her onto the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulled him against her. 

Albus’ lips tore from hers to trail across her jawline, lingering at the scar for just one moment that made it feel like he’d healed the wound, then his mouth was hot against her neck, his breathing ragged and desperate. She gasped at the scrape of teeth on bare skin, a throaty mumble that might have been his name, or begging, or just a wordless sound of need. 

His body was solid and warm against hers, flesh hot under her hands, and she could feel the shuddering rise and fall of his chest with every breath, every gasp; felt it rise before one word tore past his raw lips, one word, one name. ‘Lisa…’ 

The abyss howled inside her, alone and unanswered, and now she was freezing cold. Her hand on his chest was firm, not needy, and she pushed him as she drew back, scrabbled away, spider-like, until her back hit the kitchen wall. ‘No - _no_ -’ 

He stumbled, eyes wide, breathing ragged - and then realisation flashed in his eyes. ‘I - _shit_ _…_ ’ 

‘This is wrong.’ Her heart thudded in her chest, echoing into the emptiness within her. ‘You’re _running_ , Al, and you’re running to me and you don’t even mean this…’ 

He lifted his hands, expression folding up. ‘Eva - I’m _sorry_ -’ 

‘For which bit?’ She had to clench her jaw for a moment so her voice didn’t waver, and she slid off the side of the counter, keeping her back to the wall. Old instincts were rising, the old, familiar mantra of _don_ _’t touch me, don’t touch me_ , that rule which had never applied to him until now. ‘For being so hurt you forget I’m not her? For being so hurt you were willing to use me? Even if - even if I was, for just a moment there, so _happy_ to be used?’ 

‘It wasn’t about _using_ -’ 

‘You were running.’ She was on her feet, now, still with her back to the wall, and despised her instinct which noticed he was between her and the door. ‘Like you ran years ago, only this time you ran to _me_ , and you can’t keep doing that, Al.’ 

He didn’t move, hand at his temples, breathing still deep. He couldn’t look at her. 

She wrapped her arms around herself, and stared at the window past him. ‘You need to be somewhere else. With your family. With _Rose_ , maybe, I bet she needs you. But you sure as _hell_ need to be _not here_.’ 

Her voice betrayed her on the last, quavering and almost choking her, and that he couldn’t look at her served only one good purpose, because it meant he didn’t see the tears rising. He just mumbled something, turned on his heel and fair ran out the door, and once he was gone, once the door slammed behind him, she let herself fall. 

Eva Saida couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. She’d thought she was beyond tears, too hollowed out, too broken, but now her legs collapsed under her, she slid to the floor in a corner of her bare, barren safehouse, wrapped her arms around herself, and sobbed alone in the fading daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _‘The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for (and I hate very much to leave it),’ is a Hemingway quote, from For Whom the Bell Tolls. Matt’s addition of, ‘I agree with the second part,’ is a commentary on the quote as offered by the film Se7en. Apparently Rose vomits Hemingway all over my works (I DON’T EVEN LIKE HEMINGWAY THAT MUCH) and Matt indulges in edgy Muggle films. I’m weak with my references sometimes._


	27. Our Hearts Are Great

Once again Selena stood in front of Scorpius’ hotel room door and hammered on it. She’d been doing this for about twenty seconds with no response, though the concierge confirmed he was in there. She could understand why he might not want to see anyone. But understanding was not, as she suspected they’d all be learning in the days to come, the same thing as acceptance. So she kept hammering. ‘Scorpius! It’s not Rose, it’s not Albus, it’s not someone here to be creepily codependent at you, so _open up_!’ 

In a few seconds the door was yanked open. How long he’d been in his suite she wasn’t sure, but the lights were dim and he looked a state, so she reckoned he’d been stewing there a while already. 

‘You have got,’ said Scorpius in a low, grating voice, ‘to stop coming to see me like this.’ 

She could have been sardonic, but threw her arms around him instead. He staggered at both the impact and the wave of emotion, but a heartbeat later he was hugging her back, his embrace fierce, needy. ‘This is why you didn’t come back, isn’t it,’ she murmured. ‘This is the real reason.’ 

He just nodded and bowed his face into her shoulder, and they stood there for a long while, the two realists of their group confronted with facts they didn’t know how to fight. He let her go first, bleary-eyed, and shut the door. ‘I didn’t want to hurt them _more_ by telling - yes, I know, it would have come out eventually…’ 

‘I’m not here to yell at you,’ said Selena, then wrinkled her nose as she looked at the suite. ‘Except that this place is a _tip_ and you cannot sit in here, maudlin and alone and in the dark.’ She swished her wand to bring the lights to life and close the curtains, and flapped a hand at him. ‘Sit down. Have you even eaten?’ 

‘Not since we got back,’ Scorpius admitted, flopping onto the sofa. In brighter light, his skin had taken on a pallid shade of near-grey. ‘Not been much point.’ 

She raised an eyebrow at him, then sauntered to the internal Floo chute to find the room service menu. ‘Yes, because you might as well _starve_ to death in the time you’ve got left.’ 

‘I thought you said you weren’t going to yell at me?’ 

‘About the terrible way you’ve handled this knowledge. I’ll yell at you for being melodramatic and morbid. It’s what I _do_.’ 

‘It’s not fair to them. To come back and then to go, but - I was too weak to lie to them in Rotterdam. I should have. I should have pretended to be a trick and run, but I was too happy to see them, and I knew _that_ would hurt, too, to lie…’ 

‘Is it me,’ mused Selena, reading the menu, ‘or does lying to people for their own good _never_ work out okay? And yet we keep doing it. I’m ordering us some sandwiches.’ 

‘You just came here to mooch off my room service, didn’t you,’ drawled Scorpius as she fired up the Floo to send the order down. 

She ignored him until she was done, then joined him on the sofa, an arm around him. ‘I have no amazing answers for you. This sucks. But I know that Matt and the others will _absolutely_ look for another way -’ 

He stiffened. ‘I don’t _want_ them to find another way.’ 

‘First, you do. Of course you do. It’s just felt selfish for you to _want_ to live, so you’ll never ask them to do that.’ She squeezed his shoulder. ‘And no matter what happens, we’re all here for you.’ 

Scorpius slumped. ‘Albus is furious and hurt. Rose is furious and hurt.’ 

‘They’ll come around. You know they will.’ 

He collapsed against her, head again on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ Scorpius creaked. ‘To you, too.’ 

Selena sighed and rested her head on his. ‘Why me?’ 

‘You wanted me to make the most of this second chance. You wanted me to live like - like Methuselah’s not had the chance to. I can’t. I’ve fucked it up so far, and I’m not going to get the chance, but… I know you’re right. I know I’m luckier than so many people, I know I should be using all of this time to be with Albus, even with Rose, but I haven’t been doing that and I don’t know _how_ to, and…’ His shoulders started to shudder, and she pulled him to her, both arms wrapping around him again. When he finished, his voice was a hoarse, pained whisper. ‘I’m scared.’ 

Her throat tightened, and all she could do was hold onto him, stroke his hair in a futile effort at comfort. ‘You don’t need to be sorry to me,’ Selena murmured at last. ‘Because I’m a bloody hypocrite if I tell you off for not making the most of things.’ 

They stayed like that for a while, and it was perhaps for the best that room service knocked soon. She answered and probably mortally offended the staff by not tipping, as she suspected Scorpius was a sufficiently generous tipper that they’d be fighting in the kitchen to get these deliveries. 

He looked a bit more alive when she put the plate in front of him. ‘I guess I don’t have much choice,’ he said after he’d swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, ‘except keep going.’ 

‘That’s kind of all any of us can do,’ said Selena. ‘I promise I won’t organise you more guys’ nights for your own good, though.’ 

His cheeks coloured, and she rolled her eyes. Bellamy and Oakes were useless, but they weren’t _so_ useless she hadn’t heard how his night ended. ‘Yeah,’ Scorpius mumbled into his food. ‘That didn’t quite work out.’ 

‘It did,’ she pointed out. ‘Just not in the way I planned. I’m glad you had fun.’ 

‘It was… a good way to remember I’m alive. And _can_ have fun. Even in snippets. And I didn’t then have to agonise about how it was a moment gone forever, because even without - without _this_ , it wouldn’t have lasted…’ Scorpius shook his head, then glanced over at her. ‘What did you mean about your hypocrisy?’ 

Selena chewed on her sandwich while she considered if she was going to lie. It probably wasn’t the time for that. ‘At what point,’ she said instead, ‘do you decide if it’s worth trusting someone?’ 

‘Depends,’ said Scorpius. ‘But the thing about trust is that if you’re waiting for a guarantee, it’s not trust. Is this about Matt?’ 

She grimaced. ‘Yes. And Miranda. And Rose. And Albus. And my parents.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Scorpius. ‘So just little problems.’ He popped a chip in his mouth. ‘If it were me, I’d hide and blame everyone else and ignore all accusations of hypocrisy. But since it’s easier to tell someone else what to do, I’ll remind you it’s safer to not trust, but life’s a whole lot better if you take the risk and let people in.’ 

‘But which people?’ 

‘The ones whose intentions you trust. The ones you care about. The ones who are worth it.’ He gave her a wan, tired smile which was nevertheless sincere. ‘The ones who come running when everything’s dark, just so you know you’re not alone.’ 

She dropped her gaze, not for his sentiment but for the memory of thudding fear in her chest, swirling darkness rising up at her. And only one person who could pull away the nightmares and then keep them at bay. But Matt was, of course, the person she was most furious at and hurt by, even more so than her father. Because she’d accepted her father failing her again and again. The memory of Matt failing her was harder to swallow. 

‘Bugger,’ muttered Selena, and threw a chip at him. ‘I just came here to bum room service off you, not get all twee and affectionate.’ 

Scorpius grinned. It was a small and tired grin, but it was all the more sincere for how it shone through his pain. ‘It’s the Slytherin way. Bribe each other into consideration.’

* * 

‘I came up to check if you needed anything,’ said a guarded Hermione Granger, hovering in the threshold to her daughter’s bedroom to see that Rose had moved in with the force of a bomb. ‘And now I’m wondering if the answer is “an exorcist”.’ 

Rose bit off another strip of spell-o-tape and pinned more scribbles to her wall. ‘If you don’t understand the value of a good Wall of Crazy for sorting through a problem, then I swear we’re not related.’ 

Hermione stepped inside, staring at the two walls which had been given over to the notes, to the copied references from Matt’s team, to the duplicates of old records and diaries. ‘I know the news is hard…’ 

‘Yep. It’s hard and it’s terrible and so I’m going to _fix_ it.’ Rose stepped back and rubbed her chin. ‘I really need Scorpius here.’ 

Hermione blinked. ‘So you can talk -’ 

‘No, I need to experiment - to try to figure out the nature of the tether between him and the Chalice; if it’s anchoring him here, then that needs to be understood if we’re going to work out how to separate them _without_ losing him.’ She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. ‘I do know what I’m doing. Honestly.’ 

‘You can’t run yourself ragged on this -’ 

‘And I can’t just _accept_ that he’s going to die, again, and do nothing. Not while there’s uncertainty. Not while I have a chance. I am _done_ being the victim of circumstance.’ 

Hermione stared at her daughter for a long moment. Then she sighed, and said, ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’ 

Rose gave her a grateful smile. ‘I’m going to need a lot of tea. Oh, and a meeting with Prometheus Thane.’ 

There was another stare, then Hermione turned around. ‘We’ll discuss _that_ later.’ 

‘Sure, it doesn’t need to be tonight,’ Rose said absently as her mother left, and then went right back to pinning every scrap of paper she could get to a wall. 

It wasn’t that she would stare at it and the answers would fall into place. But dealing with each clue, each fact, individually, was helpful. It made her contemplate each piece. While Matt was set to look into the history, she had her eye set elsewhere; magics about the Otherworld completely apart from the Chalice, magics about life energies and how they worked. He could look into the artifact and how it was made. She just needed to cheat at life. 

When there was another knock on her bedroom door five minutes later, she didn’t look over. ‘Just put it on the desk…’ 

But the footstep on the floorboards was too heavy to be her mother, and there was an irrational moment of combat instincts taking over as she spun around - but it was Albus. Albus, looking an utter state, and clutching two mugs of tea like her mother had decided this was the best way to arm him against the oncoming storm. 

It wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he was stammering, words slurring. ‘I had to come back, I tried to hide, it didn’t work, I did it again and I’m _sorry_ …’ She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but then Albus dropped both mugs and burst into tears, and Rose froze like he was a ten-tonne truck bearing down at her. 

‘Al - don’t -’ She flapped wildly, then hurried over to him, ignoring the fallen mugs - one had survived, the other hadn’t, and tea was everywhere - to grab his arm. Hugs seemed a bit overwhelming right then. ‘It’s going to be okay, I _promise_ -’ 

She didn’t get a choice about that hug, because he grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace, huge shoulders racked with sobs. She clutched at him because it gave her a chance of not being smothered, and kept her own breathing slow, level. While her insides fizzed with determination and ideas and plans, she knew there was a serious risk of her reaction to Scorpius’ mortality turning not so dissimilar to his. 

‘I didn’t know how to be without him,’ Albus sobbed into her hair, because there was no way he could reach her shoulder. ‘So I left and I did _such things_ , Rose, things I didn’t want to _think_ about, especially not when he was _back_ , but he’s - we’re going to lose him again, aren’t we? And I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to go back to feeling like that.’ 

Her heart warped to the size and hardness of a nut, because this was a feeling they could share. ‘I’m going to find another way, Al,’ she whispered into his ear, holding him closer now. ‘I _promise_ I am not going to give in, I am not going to let him give in, I am not going to let _you_ give in…’ 

That just made him cry harder, so she guided him to the bed and they sat on it together while she tried to comfort a weeping man twice her size. He took a while before he calmed down, with big, gulping breaths and heavy swallows of sobs, until he could talk in a way which was halfway coherent. ‘I tried being angry, but I didn’t know what to be angry _at_ , and I didn’t think _this_ would help, either.’ He slumped back, just enough to wipe fiercely at his eyes, recovered enough for his embarrassment to be plain. She didn’t cut him off, but she did grab his hand. ‘I thought we could be better. I thought we’d _be_ better, with him back.’ 

‘Maybe we can be better,’ said Rose gently. ‘But that doesn’t undo the last two years. That doesn’t mean we didn’t feel what we felt, did what we did.’ 

He bowed his head, eyes closing. ‘I left you. And I left my family, and -’ 

‘We’ve talked about this, Al; I forgive you. Hell, _I_ _’d_ have run if I’d had the wits…’ 

‘I tried to help people.’ He licked dry lips, lifted his gaze forlornly. ‘Like some pretentious wandering idiot, righting wrongs and moving on. But I killed people, too - it was always in fights, in parts of the world where there wasn’t anyone _to_ hand them over to. Dark wizards, the odd Thornweaver but usually just… just people who hurt other people, not because of some conspiracy but because this is how the world works, and maybe I could have held back, but I chose not to. Three times.’ 

She squeezed his hand again. ‘Like you said. If they were dark wizards who’d been acting freely because there were no proper authorities to stop them, if there were no proper authorities to hand them over _to_ , you were stopping them from acting again.’ 

Albus gave a bob of a nod, shoulders hunched up. ‘I tell myself that,’ he whispered. ‘And it’s partly it. But also, I just didn’t _care_ like I used to.’ 

Rose hesitated, though it was not with judgement. _Yeah_ , she thought. _I remember that feeling_. Eva Saida, of all people, had challenged her on how willing she was to risk killing her enemies, in the fights on the _Naglfar_ , and Eva Saida, of all people, had been right. ‘It’s a time that’s been and gone, Al.’ 

‘But it doesn’t undo what I did.’ 

‘Then remember it. Accept it. And be _better_ because of it. Carry it with you so you remember how much it hurts people when you leave them, how much it hurts _you_ when you try to stop feeling, and… and be stronger for it. We lost Scorpius before, and you and I let it kill us in all but heartbeats. I’m not giving up, but I don’t want to be dead again, either.’ 

Albus watched her for a moment, then again rubbed at his damp cheeks with his sleeves. ‘To think,’ he began, voice hoarse, and he had to cough. ‘I came here because I was so ashamed at letting you down, and _I_ wanted to try being here for _you_.’ 

‘You did try to bring me tea. That counts for something.’ Rose looked to the door. ‘You lose points for dropping it.’ 

He winced. ‘Sorry -’ 

‘I’m kidding.’ She pulled her wand and waved it at the mess, scooping the lot up into two undrinkable mugs of tea. ‘Thank you for coming. It does help. Really. You’re the only person who’s not going to look at me like I’m crazy, or like you pity me, if I say I’m going to fix all of this.’ 

He looked to the wall, and she saw it sink in. As she’d predicted, his gaze turned to wonder rather than anything else. ‘You really think you can save him?’ 

‘I think that I’d rather kill myself trying than lose him again and die. I think Prometheus Thane didn’t give as much of a damn about finding a different way as he’d say. And I think I will encourage Matt and de Sablé to continue their work, like Scorpius wants, but if there is an alternative, I _will_ find it.’ 

Albus gave her a sidelong look, lips twisting. ‘I like you better like this.’ 

‘What,’ mused Rose, ‘crazy determined and kind of terrified?’ 

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but also hopeful.’ 

‘Oh, yeah. Hope.’ She sighed. ‘That thing which makes you sign up, again and again, to get hurt.’ 

‘We tried the other way. Didn’t much care for it.’ 

But he shifted his weight, and she looked over. ‘What is it?’ 

Albus wrung his hands together. ‘Your first question will be “how the fuck was that possible”, but I made things worse with Eva.’ 

Rose’s brow knotted. ‘Actually, I don’t know what constitutes “better” or “worse” for you two.’ 

‘How about I kissed her, and then called her Lisa?’ 

‘Fucking _hell_ , Albus, you don’t screw up by halves, do you?’ 

‘I _know_.’ He groaned and buried his face in his hands. ‘Like I said. I was hiding. Or trying to. So I tried to… hide with her, if that makes any sense.’ 

‘I did that for eight months in a relationship with Matt. It makes sense, even if it shouldn’t. Is _she_ okay?’ Rose hadn’t expected to feel concern for Eva Saida. It was an odd sensation. 

If possible, his shoulders got even tighter. ‘She pushed me away, kicked me out. Which I deserved. But I’d…’ He dragged his hands down his face. ‘I hadn’t really gone there caring what she wanted in the first place, I was… that was using her.’ 

She sighed and remembered throwing herself at Matt immediately after finding Scorpius was alive, a desperate gambit to feel _something_ tangible and certain. ‘I can understand that,’ Rose said carefully. ‘But at the risk of being a hypocrite, you understand every way in which that’s not okay?’ 

He winced. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’ 

‘And you and I bothhave to _start_ thinking. And we need to _stop_ hurting everyone around us just because _we_ _’re_ hurt.’ She watched as he gave a ragged, guilty nod. ‘What are you going to do?’ 

‘I don’t know. Apologise?’ 

‘It’s… a start.’ She reached for his hand again. ‘Do you know what you feel about her?’ 

‘What does it mean,’ Albus rumbled, ‘when you’re in pain and your first instinct is to run to them?’ 

‘It means you’re in danger of ignoring what’s really hurting you, and smothering everything you feel with that person’s presence.’ Rose sighed. ‘Or it means you feel safe with them. Like you can put your heart in their hands and they won’t break it, or break you.’ 

Albus met her gaze, green eyes dulled with his guilt and hurt. ‘Or both?’ 

‘Yeah. Or both.’

* * 

‘Shit,’ muttered Matt as he fumbled the flat keys in his good hand and dropped them. ‘Shit, shit, shit…’ So now he had to bend down, which made the bag on his right shoulder swing down, and then he was scrabbling in front of the door. ‘Bloody -’ 

‘I thought you were a little ambidextrous?’ 

Selena’s voice made him try to jerk upright - and bash his head on the doorknob. ‘I don’t - shit!’ 

‘Here -’ She scooped up his keys and unlocked the door. ‘Do you want me to take the bag?’ 

‘I can carry a bag,’ he grumbled, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Shame was enough to override anxiety at her presence, and so they sloped into his old flat together. Rose hadn’t lied; she’d packed and gone. They hadn’t been there long, but this did mean an entire bookshelf along the far wall was bare, and a couple of framed photographs were gone. Everything else had been left behind, because it was either his or _theirs_ and she hadn’t touched it. Their lives hadn’t intertwined so thoroughly her departure left the room barren. 

But there was a finality to it which made him let his bag slip off his shoulder to the floor. ‘ _Shit_ ,’ said Matt again. 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Selena. ‘How about you sit down and I’ll put the kettle on?’ 

They hadn’t talked since she’d stormed out of her own house, but now she was here and offering tea. He was too swept away by the his relationship’s cadaveric spasms to press the issue, so he slumped to the sofa. His stump throbbed. ‘How’d you know to find me here?’ 

‘I stopped by the warehouse,’ Selena called from the kitchen. ‘They said you were going home. They also said de Sablé showed up, and Rose. Lowsley is _such_ a gossip.’ 

‘He gets scared by social interactions between normal people, so he blathers.’ Matt leaned back on the sofa, eyes closing, and began unbuckling the prosthetic’s straps along his forearm. He’d worn it so he could grasp his bag strap - making a fist was something he could do - but donning it for more than a couple of hours still proved awkward. ‘I assume you’ve heard.’ 

‘I have. I went to see Scorpius.’ 

‘How is he?’ 

‘Terrified. Dying.’ Selena emerged from the kitchen, holding two steaming mugs, and he lifted his head to look at her. A long moment passed where neither of them spoke, then she drew a slow, hesitant breath and padded over. ‘Reminding me that life’s short. And that we should be grateful we’re alive, and that we should make the most of the time we have.’ She sat next to him, and he saw she’d made him coffee. He always preferred coffee. 

He still wasn’t sure what she was driving at, so he just mumbled a ‘thank you,’ and made a conscious effort to pick up his mug with the hand he actually had. 

Selena drew a long breath, but when she spoke it sounded like she’d meant to say something else. ‘He wants you to keep on trying to destroy the Chalice. Even if it kills him.’ 

Matt’s throat tightened. ‘Even Rose wants me to keep on trying to destroy the Chalice. She’s looking for another way. But if there isn’t one, I have to hold the course. Destroy it. Destroy Lethe. And kill him.’ He wanted to scrub his face, push back the rising emotions, but he was holding a mug and only had one hand. Instead he lay his head back and closed his eyes. ‘Why does that job fall to _me_?’ 

‘Because Rose will want to tell herself she tried her best, even if she fails. And if she fails, it has to happen,’ said Selena in a low voice. ‘Because you’ve become the guy who does what needs doing, without letting emotions get in the way.’ 

He looked up at her. ‘I’m not that guy.’ 

She only barely met his gaze. ‘I know.’ 

Matt tore his eyes away, let the gloomy ceiling become his world. ‘I want to tell you I’m sorry,’ he croaked, and clutched the mug tighter because its warmth was something he could hold on to. ‘But I’ve said it a lot. And it’s not that I don’t mean it. It’s that words aren’t enough. But I don’t know what else to do -’ 

‘Kenneth left us when I was pretty young,’ said Selena, voice still low, but her words were enough to knock him into silence. ‘So it was just me and Mum. Except Mum worked, a lot, so it was Mum, me, and carers. She used to _say_ it was her and me, a team against the world. But she only had so much time, and so we got in the habit pretty quickly of not talking about the bad stuff together. Because otherwise we’d spend all that limited time _just_ talking about the bad. 

‘So we made sure the time we spent together was good; having fun, or talking about the good things. And it wasn’t _lying_ , because we both knew - I mean, I figured out within a few years - that not everything was okay all the time. We knew it was there, and we loved each other, and we gave each other support by being respite. Breaks from the bad. It just made me really, _really_ good at pretending nothing was wrong.’ 

He sat up slowly as he looked at her, kept his voice gentle. ‘And that didn’t change at Hogwarts.’ 

‘I was never in the habit of talking about my bad things with anyone. Not even people I cared about, because that’s not how I wanted to spend time with them. I wanted the time together to be happy. So it carried on with Miranda and Abena, and it carried on with Mum during the holidays, and somewhere down the line I became a teenager who didn’t talk about anything serious with anyone. Until Phlegethon.’ 

‘And Methuselah.’ 

The corners of Selena’s eyes creased. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t tell him any of _this_. I don’t think I knew I was _doing_ it back then. But he never acted like he expected me to put up a mask _or_ open up to him. He just _was_. And he treated me not like something vapid and superficial to be played with and put down, orsome broken bird to be fixed…’ Her shoulders hunched in. ‘I only really knew him for five months. We were only _together_ for about a month. Six weeks. I finished falling in love with him when he died, because I couldn’t fall in love _with_ him.’ She stared at her hands. ‘I was very different when I met you.’ 

‘After Badenheim, anyway.’ 

‘I couldn’t pretend nothing was wrong after that manipulation. Or after slapping Scorpius.’ She brushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear, and he wished the sconces were lower so the light would be less stark on her pale skin. It made her look more worn, more tired, and he didn’t dare yet reach out to comfort her. ‘And then I had to turn to people for help, because I couldn’t hide it any more and you all _knew_. Rose was - I only started speaking to Rose during Phlegethon because she was in more need of blunt truths than anyone, and I can’t lie, I was _bored_. But then she turned the tables on me - except every once in a while she had to run to Scorpius, or look to herself. And then more things happened and then there was a wedge between us.’ 

Matt winced. ‘She wasn’t in much of a condition to help _anyone_ after Scorpius died.’ 

‘She wasn’t,’ Selena agreed, still studying her hands. ‘But that wasn’t the wedge. The wedge came from the one thing she and I can never talk about.’ It was like her eyes were weighted down, such was the slow difficulty with which she lifted her gaze to him. ‘You and me.’ 

His throat tightened. ‘Selena…’ 

‘You, the other person I could turn to. You, the person who was there when Rose _wasn_ _’t_ , and you had your burdens but they didn’t drag you away, we _shared_ them…’ She shut her eyes, and he had to move closer, because the idea she had to block him from all her senses caught in his chest like a heartbeat that burned. ‘Do you remember when we sat over wine in Venice and said without saying it that we were _something_?’ 

He put down his mug. ‘I wasn’t _leaving_ you after Scorpius died and Rose -’ 

‘You were,’ she said quickly, but she did now look at him. ‘Because it was easier for you to go to Rose, who wasn’t shy about needing you, and let me go.’ 

‘I’m -’ 

‘And it was easier,’ she said in a firmer voice, like getting the words out was akin to climbing a mountain and took the same dogged determination, ‘for me to go. Because I’ve been so used to not needing someone I didn’t know how to fight - no, that’s not right.’ Her lips thinned, and she took a moment before she pressed on, anchoring herself. ‘I knew how to fight. I didn’t dare fight. All my life, I’ve not dared. And Kenneth reminded me how many people _relied_ on my not daring, _encouraged_ me to not dare. You let me keep on not daring, because it was easier, and that’s your fault. But I kept on being too scared, because it was easier. That’s _my_ fault.’ 

Her eyes were on his, and the only reason he hesitated in reaching for her was because his instinct was still to use his right hand. ‘I’m willing to learn, and move on,’ said Matt, his voice a low rumble, like it was from somewhere deep inside himself he’d not gone to in a long time, ‘if you are.’ 

The next breath was a flutter. ‘I don’t know,’ Selena whispered. ‘I don’t know what moving on _is_.’ 

His left hand felt clumsy when he lifted it, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t because he’d never favoured it. Fingers felt stumpy as they brushed against her cheek, as his thumb traced along her jaw to her chin, but she didn’t pull back. ‘We’ve never been good at specifics, have we?’ 

He felt her tense under his hand. ‘I don’t want to be the space between the lines any more.’ 

For years he’d held Rose’s grief in his hands, and he’d told himself that was the same as her heart, and never soothed it into oblivion because then he would be holding nothing. She’d told him she needed him, she’d turned to him when in pain again and again, but never had she implied _he_ could hurt her. That he needed to be careful. That he could break her. One admission from Selena, one vulnerability, and he almost trembled at the implication, because he knew it was her heart he held. And his thudded in his chest with a fervour he’d forgotten, because it wasn’t panic or some gut-churning hunger he’d called need, but something higher, soaring, enough to fill his head and set it spinning. 

‘Okay,’ Matt whispered, and leaned in so her breath was a tickle on his lips, his nose just a brush against hers. ‘What if you get to pick the word?’ 

Another flutter of her breath, a quiver at her throat. ‘You left Rose _days_ ago…’ 

‘Not really,’ he murmured, and put his forehead to hers, touch gentle but close. ‘Because I was never really hers.’ 

‘Are you saying -’ 

‘I’m saying I want to be with you.’ Fingertips coaxed her chin up and he tilted his head down, only breaths between them now. ‘I’m saying I want you with me, with everything that’s coming. I want you with me in the chaos. I want you with me when the dust settles. I want you with me in all the choices we’ll have to make.’ His lips quavered, because now he’d spilt his heart into _her_ hands, and with Rose that had been easy because he’d known in his bones it would never mean anything. Now, hope was joined by uncertainty, by fear. ‘I don’t know what the word is for that.’ 

She didn’t lean in to him, but her fingers curled in his jumper and as their breath mingled, he realised they’d never have this moment again; dangling at the precipice, the rapids rushing below to drag them away, but ready to fall. And he had to smile, his laugh no more a sigh, but it was a laugh she caught with a whisper’s kiss. The touch lingered, gentle, until her hand released him to slide up his shoulder. Fingers buried in his hair, and he had only a heartbeat in which to despise having the lone hand with which to hold her before her lips were on his again. 

And together they fell. 


	28. Through the Dim Dawn

Dawn dragged its golden fingertips across the rooftops of London, a haze of light and hope to stream through the windows of his hotel suite, but no warmth could find Scorpius Malfoy. He’d sat in his armchair and watched the lights of Diagon Alley and beyond wink out as night drew on, then stared at impenetrable darkness. Alone. In silence. But the knock on his door came not long after light crawled across the floorboards, and it was enough to jerk him from his reverie. 

‘Come in.’ 

The door swung open, and he stood at the sight of Rose, shrouded in the shadows. ‘I didn’t think I’d wake you.’ 

‘I didn’t sleep,’ he admitted. ‘It wasn’t - I don’t -’ 

‘You should have rested,’ she said, and turned on the lights. Then she wasn’t a pale, haunted figure, but tall and determined, sweeping into the room with a bag slung over her shoulder, red hair a wild trail behind her. ‘We’ve got work to do.’ 

Scorpius blinked. ‘Work?’ 

‘Come on, Malfoy, you’re not that lazy, you know the word -’ 

‘But I don’t -’ 

‘Cassian.’ Rose tossed the bag onto the sofa, then turned. One hand on her hip, her eyes dragged over him. ‘You look terrible.’ 

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘As we covered, I’m dying.’ 

‘So am I.’ 

His heart tried to impersonate his Adam’s apple. ‘What?’ 

‘We all are. Aren’t we.’ Rose flipped her hair over her shoulder. ‘We all only have so much time. So let’s make the most of this time. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To use the time you’ve got to take chunks out of the Council, to make all of this worthwhile? We still haven’t finished chasing Cassian Malfoy’s leads.’ 

‘We’re _assuming_ there are leads. We can’t even read the diary.’ 

‘Did you have a better idea?’ 

Scorpius blinked. ‘I’m only saying I don’t know where to _start_.’ 

‘No, you’re not.’ Rose padded over, chin tilted up a defiant inch. ‘You’re running and hiding. Letting your fear and pain overwhelm you. I _refuse_ to let you wallow, because that’s not what you want.’ 

His expression creased. ‘There are so many things that aren’t what I want -’ 

‘So reject them.’ 

‘What?’ 

Her jaw tightened. ‘I refuse to accept that this is inevitable. That the Chalice _must_ be destroyed, or that this _must_ kill you -’ 

There was a flash of angry fear in his cold gut, then he’d seized her arm. ‘You will _not_ delay a solution to Lethe just to save _me_ -’ 

‘Depends on which “you” you mean,’ said Rose, meeting his gaze. ‘If you mean the research team? Sure, they’ll do what they have to. Even if it means sacrificing you to stop Lethe. I understand the reasons, and I understand your wishes. You’ve made that clear to Matt, _I_ _’ve_ made that clear to Matt.’ 

‘ _You_ _’ve_ made it clear -’ 

‘If you think,’ she pressed on, with only the slightest quaver in her voice, ‘that I am going to stand by and _accept_ this without even trying to find another way… if you think I will not do _everything_ in my power to save you, then bloody hell, Scorpius, you never knew me at all, did you?’ 

He stared at her, eyes roaming over every inch of her face to find some hint of trepidation or madness. He found only fiery determination. ‘We - we _looked_ , Rose -’ 

‘You didn’t _have_ the Chalice when you looked for another way. It was all theoretical. Though speaking of theory, I’m getting Mum to set me up a meeting with Prometheus Thane to talk about his research. If you _want_ to be there…’ 

‘Hang on.’ Scorpius lifted a hand. ‘If you’re researching the Chalice, if you’re trying to cheat death, why are you here about Cassian?’ 

She gave him another look, and only now could he see the bags under her eyes, hidden as they had been by her fire. ‘I can do two things, Scorpius. Even if I don’t accept that your time is _this_ finite, even if I’m going to spend every spare hour working on cheating death, then I’m not walking away from this. Away from _you_.’ 

Another silence, and this time he had to fish for a whole new topic rather than answer that, answer the vigour in her voice. ‘Did _you_ get any sleep?’ 

Rose huffed, and pulled her arm free. ‘As much as I ever do.’ She went back to her bag on the sofa. ‘I thought we could head to Malfoy Manor.’ 

He froze. ‘ _Why_?’ 

‘Because your father was looking into Cassian Malfoy’s records and belongings and I don’t know how thorough you guys were. Because I have no idea how to decipher the diary, and maybe something in Cassian’s belongings will give us a clue. Because I don’t have any better ideas.’ 

‘Rigby’s shut the place up -’ 

‘We can open a door, Scorpius. I want to look in a box and maybe some old rooms; I don’t want to _sleep_ there.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder, but her gaze softened when she looked back. ‘I know you don’t want to go. But I really don’t have any better ideas, I can’t get in without you, and I wouldn’t know where to _look_ without you. Did you want to get breakfast first?’ 

He hadn’t even agreed to go, and yet she was assuming his cooperation. It would have been frustrating had he been capable of frustration. Or if being frustrated by Rose Weasley didn’t bring with it an old, familiar warmth he hadn’t let himself feel in a long, long time. Scorpius let out a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t eat anything.’ 

‘Then we’ll eat after. Maybe progress will help you unwind.’ She returned to his side, and finally there was hesitation when she extended her hand and spoke, voice lower and more gentle. ‘Apparate us?’ 

He stared at her hand for a moment, touch careful when he reached out, then drew his wand. Only circumstances this bizarre could make him bring Rose to Malfoy Manor. ‘Hold on, then.’ 

The corners of her lips curled up. ‘Like you can stop me.’ 

He couldn’t tell if his insides twisted from her or the Apparition, but soon they were stood in the cold, dewy morning light before the looming shadow of his family home, and Rose stopped being his biggest concern. Rigby had done his work well. There was not a window that had not been shuttered, and with the sun this low in the sky, Malfoy Manor squatted like an enormous gargoyle, grey and ugly and leering down at them. 

He glanced at Rose. She stared at it, eyes wide with that gleam of curiosity he knew so well, and he knew she was thinking, analysing. He cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get moving.’ 

She blinked at his tone, but followed without argument when he crunched up the drive to the front door. He still had the keys, could still let himself into the shadowed halls of dust and memories, and was relieved to see Rigby had placed sheets over all of the paintings. ‘The crate should still be in the drawing room. There were a few boxes of Cassian’s old belongings in there, I just didn’t know what I was _looking_ for.’ 

‘I still don’t,’ Rose conceded, but let him lead down corridors and through the door. The room was dark with the closed shutters, everything covered, but still he could see her soaking up the sights, especially the crate in the corner. 

Despite his better judgement, he flicked his wand at the sconces and fireplace. ‘Everything’s in that crate, Rigby said,’ Scorpius explained. ‘Including a portrait of the man himself. Do you think it knows anything?’ 

‘A portrait needs a lot of interaction with its subject to learn anything, to properly emulate them. Otherwise it’s just cheap mannerisms. It might have picked up what people _expect_ the portrait to be like. They’re mimics, really.’ Rose headed for the crate, while by instinct he slunk to a darkened corner and ignored the memories of echoed yelling. ‘I mean, you remember the issues with finding an appropriate portrait for communication in Hogwarts -’ 

‘I remember,’ he said shortly, and felt a flash of shame when her lips thinned and she turned to the crate. He’d been too blunt. 

She didn’t say anything as she pulled off the lid, but then there was a rustle and the voice of Cassian Malfoy’s portrait. With his memories of the Otherworld dislodged by Legilimency, it sounded now like the spectre with which he’d conversed. 

‘ _Finally_. I was wondering if anyone was going to let me out of this turgid place -’ 

‘Maybe we will,’ said Rose, reaching in to pull out the portrait. She propped it against the crate. ‘If you can help us.’ 

Cassian Malfoy’s portrait rolled his eyes. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m not the _helpful_ sort.’ 

‘We know there’s more in your head than Quidditch scores and girls.’ 

He looked her up and down. ‘Not _much_ more. Maybe a fine account of the best bars across Europe. There’s not much point in living this life unless you’re going to have fun - but speaking of girls, what’s _your_ name, darling?’ 

‘Rose,’ she said as Scorpius rolled his eyes. ‘Rose Weasley.’ 

‘A _Weasley_ , hm?’ Cassian’s portrait looked over to Scorpius. ‘No wonder you’re skulking in the corner; I bet they _hate_ you bringing a Weasley girl here! You sly dog -’ 

‘I’m a half-blood,’ Rose added, and he knew she was just being provocative. 

Cassian laughed. ‘Is that why everywhere’s closed down? Did he bed a Weasley half-blood and the House of Malfoy fell to _immediate_ ruin out of raw indignation? Are we going to see angry ancestor ghosts bearing down to rip you apart for having an independent thought?’ 

‘We’re _really_ not here to talk about this,’ said Scorpius. ‘Do you know _anything_ about the Magical Alliance?’ 

Cassian Malfoy’s portrait frowned. ‘Those interfering do-gooders? I heard they won their war.’ 

‘Did you work with them?’ Rose asked. 

The portrait narrowed its eyes at her. ‘That sounds like a fine way to get _killed_ , my dear Miss Weasley -’ 

‘He’s no use,’ Scorpius blurted. ‘Cover him up, he’s just a portrait of the cover identity…’ 

‘I am not -’ 

But she didn’t argue and tossed a drape over the portrait, which subsided into a low grumble. ‘Maybe there’s something in his stuff,’ she said, and rummaged in the crate. 

‘Yeah,’ Scorpius rumbled, shoulders hunching. ‘Maybe.’ 

‘You don’t need to feel bad, Scorpius. It’s not like I didn’t know this about your family. And their opinions.’ 

‘You don’t - I wasn’t being a _rebel_ -’ 

She looked over her shoulder and pushed back the cascade of red hair, brow furrowed. ‘I neverthought we went through all that fuss so you could make a point -’ 

‘But I didn’t want you to see this place. To _have_ to see this place, I mean. Ever.’ 

She turned around. ‘It’s just a house, Scorpius. A big, old, creepy house, but it’s just -’ 

‘I hate it,’ he blurted. ‘I hate it for _me_ , because I come here and all I can think about is hearing my parents argue, listening to my father tell me I’m not good enough; all I can remember are the _shitty_ times. It’s like someone’s taken all of my dark thoughts and dark memories and turned them into halls and rooms, a _shrine_ of the failures of Scorpius Malfoy.’ He hadn’t meant to say any of this, but now the words were flowing. ‘And I hate it for my family, because it’s been built on the backs of our being _shits_ to people, and it’s been built as a memorial to our bullshit ideals, bullshit attitudes, bullshit principles. The Malfoy family has a long and vaunted history of being on the wrong side of every argument, every war, because even if they _won_ they were _wrong_ to win, and I don’t _want_ this place to mean anything to me. Because everything it means is _bad_.’ 

His chest was heaving, his blood rushing in his ears, and he’d thought simple problems like resenting his family were past him, because what did a dead man care about his heritage? But the old, bubbling feelings came up anyway, and so he had to fall into silence, fighting to get his breathing under control. 

Rose padded over like he might bolt. ‘Cassian Malfoy wasn’t on the wrong side of his war.’ 

‘Sure. Except his family wrote off his achievements, _ignored_ the principles he fought and died for. Told the world that he was nothing more than a flippant youth chasing indulgences who would never, _ever_ grow up!’ He heard the echoes in his words only as they spilt past his lips, but she didn’t seem surprised. 

He was still frozen in place when she reached for his hand with careful reverence. ‘We can find the truth about him. So _whatever_ happens, both of you are remembered for who and what you _really_ are. So the world sees the _good_ the Malfoy family is capable of.’ Her fingers ran over his knuckles, the touch exploratory as much as it was reassuring. 

He closed his eyes, hand tightening on hers by an instinct so deep in his bones he didn’t stand a chance of fighting it. ‘It’s not - I didn’t think I cared about my legacy. But staring death in the face makes how I’m remembered suddenly seem a lot more important.’ 

‘I am _not_ ,’ said Rose, with just the slightest quaver, ‘going to only have to _remember_ you. I _promise_ you, Scorpius -’ 

‘ _Don_ _’t_ ,’ he snapped, and pulled back, heart in his throat. ‘There’s - there’s one more thing I didn’t tell you, one _last_ reason I didn’t come back, and it’s not about facts or truths or… it’s about _me_ …’ She stayed put and now he’d started he had to continue. ‘Please don’t promise you’ll fix this. You don’t know if you can. Maybe you _can_ find another way - I don’t know, I didn’t think there was one, I _don_ _’t_ think there is one, but…’ 

‘But you refuse to hope?’ Rose frowned. 

‘Hope - _hope_ -’ The word tried to choke him. ‘I’m going to have to _die_ , Rose. I’m going to have to _make sure_ I die, because that’s what I _have_ to do, that’s the _decent_ thing to do, and I am a _monster_ if I let others keep suffering. And I - and I…’ His voice trailed off, and Scorpius tore away, turning to the shuttered window so he didn’t have to look at her, because the mere sight of her made this harder. ‘And it’s easier to do that if I stay a dead man.’ 

A long silence met his words, and he knew he needed to explain more, but he couldn’t find the words. Her footsteps were soft as she approached, but she didn’t reach for him yet, and he didn’t know how near she was. ‘So you stayed away because it was easier for you?’ 

There was no accusation in her voice, but still he bowed his head, hunched in his shoulders. ‘Fighting with Thane, doing horrible things with Thane - it didn’t matter. I was going to die, again. It was just - a reprieve. A cheat. A fluke. It wouldn’t last, so why… so why…’ Scorpius swallowed hard. ‘Why remind myself of everything I want to live for? Why try to make a life I won’t want to _leave_?’ He felt her hand on his arm and that sent a jolt through him. He jerked away and turned to her, eyes blazing. ‘How the _hell_ could I come back to you and then _leave_ you?’ 

She stared at him before a flash of old determination entered her gaze. ‘I told myself I would go through the pain of losing you a thousand times over, if I could get one more day, one more _second_ with you -’ 

‘Maybe _you_ _’d_ take that deal,’ said Scorpius, stepping forward, head fizzing with her presence and fire in every way he wished it wouldn’t. ‘But _I_ _’m_ the one who has to then walk away, die. I’ve tried dying. It was pretty shit. If I have to go again, I want to go as a man embracing the sacrifice, not a man clutching the woman he loves saying, “ _Please, no, I don_ _’t want to go_!”’ 

That hit her like slap. ‘Scorpius…’ 

‘I have lied to you for your own good and for _myself_ ,’ he admitted. ‘Because this was hard enough when you were just a memory in my mind and in my heart and in my _bones_ , but now you’re in front of me and all we’re doing is _talking_ , but if someone told me I had to walk away from you again, I’d tell them to go to hell.’ 

Rose drew a deep breath. ‘Then tell them that. Don’t _give up_ , Scorpius; there are things we can do, measures we can take, _research_ we can do, and then you don’t have to walk away!’ 

‘And what if you’re _wrong?_ ’ 

She paused. ‘Then it hurts.’ 

‘Hurts. That’s an amazing -’ 

‘And I would rather _try._ I would rather put everything I have into the _slightest_ chance, I would rather dash myself against these rocks and break myself upon this hope, than stand somewhere safe and secure and _watch you die_.’ She stepped forwards, defiant again, and he had to tilt his head down to look her in the eye and she was close, _too close_. 

‘We - we came here to look at Cassian Malfoy’s things,’ he blurted, and strode to the crate, pulling the journal out of his jacket. 

She was silent until he was rummaging in the files his father had gathered, and when she spoke it sounded like her voice was coming from a long way away. ‘Scorpius…’ 

‘That can be _your_ choice,’ he said, and tried to fight the quaver in his throat. ‘But I think I’ve shown, time and again, especially with _this_ , that I’m a coward. Because I could have lied to you on the _Naglfar_ , pretended to be a trick, but I was too pleased to see you, to see Albus, and I’m a _coward_. Because, having proved I was _me_ , I still couldn’t bring myself to tell you the whole truth, because I’m a _coward_. And now, with all before us, I could fight, and I won’t _stop_ you doing what you’re doing, but I won’t _believe_ in it. Because I’m a coward.’ 

‘You are _not_ a coward,’ Rose snapped in that voice she always used when he tore himself down. ‘You’re one of the stupidest, bravest men I’ve ever met, but you are _also_ your own worst enemy. And when you are your worst enemy, you destroy your value and destroy your _hope_ , and I don’t think it’s _possible_ to be brave without some glimmer of hope!’ 

He didn’t look at her as she joined him by the crate, just set the journal on the side as he pulled out a small wooden box. ‘I need a bit more than being told to have hope.’ 

‘And I’ll _give_ you more,’ Rose snapped. ‘Whatever it takes, I will prove to you that this can be done, and I will do this. But you have to be prepared to listen to me.’ 

‘So far, you’ve given me nothing but blind conviction,’ he retorted, and flipped the box open. ‘So how about we get back to chasing down the dead ends of the secret life of Cassian Malfoy?’ 

‘They aren’t _dead ends_ ,’ she said, and a part of him hated how winding her up like this, settling into discourse that was more bicker than conversation, was comfortable and warm. She opened the journal, leafed through the pages of nonsense. ‘We’ve _barely_ looked.’ 

‘I’m looking,’ he said, peering into the box, ‘and this looks like his _toiletries,_ stored for eighty years. _Riveting_! Maybe the secret is in Cassian’s shaving kit?’ He pulled out a razor, peered at it, then tossed it back. ‘Or his little cuff link collection? Nice gemstones. Oh, or his secret stash of drugs.’ 

Scorpius wasn’t sure _what_ the small leather pouch was, but facetious irritation and the desire to argue rather than confront real problems made him theatrical. It was thus against his better judgement that he opened the pouch and investigated with a big sniff. 

Dust - of some sort - shot up his nose, filled his nostrils and his head, and he dropped the pouch to let out an almighty sneeze. 

Rose coughed. ‘ _Lovely_ ; yes, let’s snort what _at best_ are herbs a century old…’ 

But her voice trailed off, and when he wiped his eyes and nose, he found her staring at the open pages of the journal. He hadn’t sneezed on it - not _much_. But that dust had gone everywhere, and a little of it had sprayed across the pages of incomprehensible babble they had failed at deciphering. 

Because it seemed like it _was_ babble, lines and lines without meaning or sense. And in between those lines, gleaming now in a purple ink where the dust had fallen, were new words. English words. 

Rose let out a deep breath. ‘Give me the pouch,’ she said in a hushed voice, and he passed it over. She took a pinch, sprinkled it over the page, and in between every line of the gibberish there was a second line that revealed itself and was most certainly _not_ gibberish. 

‘Cass Malfoy,’ Scorpius breathed. ‘You sneaky little bastard.’ 

She glanced over, smile curling back into her pleased, successful grin, and he couldn’t help but return it at the surge of victory and just at the sight of her so pleased. ‘Feeling any hope yet?’ 

The journal wasn’t an answer yet, or even a clue. They would have to go through lines and lines of records to find something, anything, which might lead to wherever the spirit of Cassian Malfoy rested with apparently more knowledge that could help them defeat Joachim Raskoph. And that might do nothing for his survival. 

But it was something, and even through the aching pain of his words, the bleak blanket this house of his ancestors cast over him, Scorpius Malfoy couldn’t help but look at the book, look at Rose Weasley’s smiling face, and feel a dash of _something_ light inside.

* * 

His hands were empty, and that felt wrong. A gesture was needed, surely; something more than himself and his mumbled words. But a physical peace offering felt so superficial, and so Albus had to accept that he could not _possibly_ bring enough as he hammered on the door to Eva’s flat. 

There was a long pause before she answered, and when the door swung open he was greeted with a determinedly plain expression. ‘Albus.’ 

He wrung his hands together. ‘We need to talk.’ 

She turned away. ‘We really don’t.’ 

‘Last night was -’ He had to hurry inside to follow her if he didn’t want to shout across a room. ‘I was wrong. And I’m sorry.’ 

‘Thank you. But we don’t need to talk about this.’ Eva went to the coffee table, voice completely without inflection, and picked up a manilla folder. ‘We need to talk to a man named Amadeus Candlestone; he works in the Minister’s office and either he screwed up checking after the buyouts or he let it happen. Either way, he should know more of the financial details used by Draco Malfoy to -’ 

Albus braced himself before he interrupted. ‘Are we going to talk?’ 

She looked over the folder at him, impassive. ‘We are talking. I’m briefing you.’ 

‘I mean about -’ 

‘I’ve been let out of prison to help the Auror Office hunt down Draco Malfoy. You’ve been hired as an independent contractor to work with me for that purpose. We have a job to do.’ 

‘You’re just going to pretend like -’ 

‘I am _stopping_ all pretence.’ There was only the lightest pressure to her voice, but on her flat expression it was like a wave of emotion. ‘I am here because of my skills and my knowledge. Because my track record now implies I will cooperate with the proper authorities. _You_ are here because Scorpius Malfoy asked you to be, and because of your moral compass, such as it is these days.’ 

Albus stopped. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 

She tossed down the folder, jaw tight. ‘It means that Al and Lisa might have had something once, but not only am I _not_ Lisa Delacroix, you’re not that same Al any more either.’ 

He took a step forward. ‘I am _trying_ -’ 

‘No. The world has just done what it does; it makes you forget that other people are people.’ 

She wasn’t looking at him, and he stomped over to the coffee table. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 

‘It’s not a criticism. It’s normality. But this wouldn’t have happened two and a half years ago.’ 

‘Of course it wouldn’t, but things are _different_ -’ 

‘Exactly.’ Now she lifted her gaze, dark and guarded and yet with a glint of accusation. ‘Most people put their own needs first. Sometimes, all they need of someone else is for them to go away. That’s real cruelty. I didn’t kill people because I hated them, I killed people because I needed them to not be a problem.’ 

‘You’ve changed -’ 

‘ _So have you_ ,’ she snapped, feeling cracking through every inch of reserve, but her eyes immediately dropped and she took a step back. ‘Because when I met you, you were someone who would _always_ think of others, of their needs. You saw me as a person and you believed there was something good in me even if _I_ couldn’t believe that, and you kept that up - that belief, that consideration, even when it was inconvenient.’ Eva turned away, and from the tension in her shoulders he wondered if her expression would betray more than it ever had. But she kept it hidden, stalking to the window. ‘And then last night, you saw me as an escape, and nothing more. I’m not angry. The world just did to you what it does to everyone.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘Bullshit, you’re not angry. You’re -’ Realisation stabbed him in the gut. ‘You thought I was the guy who doesn’t hurt you, doesn’t _use_ you like you’ve been used.’ 

‘And then Scorpius died, and all you see is your own pain. It’s normal. It’s how the world works.’ She shook her head, and when she glanced over her shoulder, the mask was back. ‘So we’ll get the job done.’ 

His shoulders dropped, the impassive stillness more of a blow than the hurt. ‘I… tried to make it better this time,’ he said in a low, hoarse voice. ‘I went to Rose, I didn’t want to let her down again…’ _But only after I_ _’d let you down_. 

Eva looked away. ‘Good,’ she said, and it was worse that it sounded like she meant it. 

‘I never understood, two years ago, what I was doing to you. I thought you just needed someone to _listen_ to you and encourage you, I didn’t -’ He almost said that it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t known he was rebuilding her. But then he remembered what it had felt like to hope without reservation, and he knew he would have only tried _harder_ if he’d known. Maybe he didn’t sign up to be her moral architect, but he would have done so in a heartbeat if he’d been asked. Because that was the man he’d been. 

Now he was the man who let others get hurt for his own safety, who hid from harm, and who’d killed because he’d accepted the world was too inconvenient, at times, for mercy. 

‘I know,’ Eva said, voice dropping, and she still didn’t look back. ‘And I’m grateful.’ 

_You_ _’re grateful to who I used to be. You drew hope from who I used to be. And now I’ve let you down._   
  
He swallowed hard. ‘We’ll find this Candlestone -’ 

‘I’ll do it,’ said Eva flatly. ‘It’ll be easier than the son of Harry Potter coming up to talk to him. If it doesn’t work, then you can try.’ She turned back to him at last, impassive. ‘I will send you word when I have an update. Good evening.’ 

The dismissal made him take a step back without thinking, and when he thought, it wasn’t much better - so he just gave an awkward nod and turned, shoulders tight, to stalk to the door, out of the run-down block on Diagon Alley, and into the gathering dusk of dying autumn. 

He could feel it in his gut, a tight coil of rope long enough to hang himself with, the desire to run. Run and hide, go somewhere he didn’t have to face the accusing eyes or the people he’d let down, the people who’d once believed in him. The people who now couldn’t look at him the same way, who had to treat him with cautious reserve for their own safety, or outright distrust because they never wanted him close. His father, treating the world like a threat to his loved ones. His mother, treating the family’s problems as a balancing act. His brother, so guardedly resentful; Rose, learning to hope again and leaving him far behind because he would just bring her down. Eva, now realising he was no longer the man who’d once saved her. All of them, their belief shattered, all of them… 

Albus lifted his gaze to the twinkling lights of the winding road of Diagon Alley, and broke into a run. 

But he did not have far to go before he was hammering on another door, with another long wait as someone checked it was safe to let him in, and then he had another worried, guarded expression greeting him. 

He drew a deep breath. ‘When I lost you, I became nothing. I don’t want to lose you again, and I don’t want to become nothing again. So I’m sorry for pelting off. And I forgive you for hiding this, and I forgive you for _anything_ you have done -’ 

Scorpius’ expression had been softening, but at this he stepped back into the suite like he’d been stung. ‘You don’t know what I did -’ 

‘I’m not an idiot. You worked with Prometheus Thane. And you did what you thought you had to, which nobody else could do, because that’s the world we live in.’ Albus ran a hand through his hair, and his breath shuddered as he drew it. ‘Can’t we be better than the world? Both of us?’ 

Scorpius jerked, chin raising a half-inch. ‘Al, you’ve _always_ been better -’ 

‘I bloody haven’t. Not while you were gone. Not just now. You think I don’t understand? I do. I understand the helplessness, I understand the desolation, and then I look at you, and I see you in that darkness, and I think -’ He swallowed hard. ‘You’re my best mate. And whatever happens, I’m here. Because you have always, _always_ been stronger than you know, and if I have to remind you of that every single day to make sure we get through this, I will bloody _do_ that.’ 

‘Al -’ 

He advanced to curl his hands in Scorpius’ shirt, grip iron-tight. ‘If we fail, we fail, but that’s together, you hear me? Win or lose, I’ll find your father and we’ll sort these secrets, but I have your back and there’s _nowhere_ I’d rather be. But you…’ His throat clenched, exhaustion tying his words in knots. ‘I always believed in you. But you - you never gave up faith in me, did you?’ 

He’d almost not dared utter the question, but Scorpius tensed the moment the words were past his lips, and he clasped Albus’ arms, bright gaze going hard. ‘ _Never_. Merlin, Al, you’ve been through hell but you don’t _get_ to give up. I wouldn’t _be_ here if I weren’t for you. I’d probably be selling out with my prick of a father - you have _always_ not just seen the best in me, the best in the world, but you’ve _fought_ for that best. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I didn’t want to let you down.’ 

‘Let _me_ down - I stopped being that person, _I_ broke that faith…’ Albus’ voice collapsed, and all he could do was yank Scorpius into a tight embrace. ‘We’re both stupid bastards, aren’t we.’ 

‘We really are,’ came Scorpius’ muffled voice, not without a quaver. Albus could feel the tension in his best friend’s shoulders, tension at the world rather than these admissions, because in the hug it started to ebb away. He didn’t know if he’d come for absolution, or comfort, or to make right the wrong of pushing Scorpius away. Maybe all three. Amends were needed, mistakes needed rectifying. 

But the man he’d once been - the man he’d deemed naive, weak, who needed to change with the world - wouldn’t have made those screw ups. He knew it was that man Scorpius spoke to, that man Eva had seen him as before the previous night, that man Rose had tried to bring out in their last conversation. Albus wondered if that man had gone even further away, never to return, or if he’d never left and was just somewhere around the corner. 

He clapped Scorpius on the back and closed his eyes. ‘You know I love you, right, mate?’ 

It felt stupid to say, if necessary, but Scorpius just tightened the hug and gave a raw chuckle. ‘Yeah, you great lug. Of course I know, I’m not a bloody idiot.’ He cleared his throat. ‘…love you too.’ 

Then they pulled back, because there really wasn’t much else to say and do after that, except for Scorpius to nod to the Floo and go, ‘You eaten? Room service isn’t bad,’ like they hadn’t just clutched at each other like flotsam in a storm. Except - even if Albus’ response was a grunt and a one-shouldered shrug, like this was alright, he supposed - neither one of them could stop beaming like idiots. 


	29. Penance on Myself

‘So why have you come to me for help?’ said Selena, eyeballing Eva Saida with suspicion. 

‘I need backup,’ was the simple answer. ‘I’m not expecting a fight, but I’m not going on my own. You lend an air of legitimacy. You don’t need to claim to represent your mother or the IMC. But I’m happy for people to make that assumption. _And_ you know the case details better than most.’ 

At this point, Selena was inclined to agree just to get Eva out of her living room. It was a clash of worlds she wasn’t prepared for. But there were still questions, such as, ‘Where’s Albus?’ 

Eva rested her hand on her holstered wand. ‘I think it’s best he’s not involved in this.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena. ‘We’re going to talk to a man who might have covered up Draco Malfoy’s corporate shenanigans, so who might have information on his whereabouts. But it’s not like _Al_ , who’s officially contracted to work on this, is a better choice for this job than me. You two argued, didn’t you?’ 

Eva’s gaze dropped. ‘He has a lot on his plate with Scorpius -’ 

‘I really don’t care,’ Selena sighed. ‘Your drama is a drama too far for me. Even my Niffler’s nose for gossip knows its limits. I like saucy theatrics, not road mines exploding in my face.’ 

‘Then stop asking questions and just say yes or no.’ 

She wanted to say no, but someone needed to keep an eye on this situation and she was curious despite her better judgement. Curious of the gossip as much as the situation with Amadeus Candlestone. ‘You’re in luck,’ said Selena with a groan. ‘It’s a Saturday. He’ll be at home.’ 

‘It’s not luck. It’s why we’re doing this today. He lives alone; separated from his wife, and it’s not the weekend he gets to see his kids.’ 

‘Good recon!’ said Selena, smiling. ‘Informative _and_ creepy! Is there a particular reason we’re not doing this via the DMLE?’ 

Eva raised an eyebrow, drew her wand, and extended a hand. ‘Do _you_ trust the Minister’s office?’ 

‘No. But I don’t know when I started trusting _you_ more.’ And again, despite her better judgement, she shuffled over for the side-along Apparition to one of the more bland and unremarkable lanes that broke off from Diagon Alley. It wasn’t upmarket living, but it wasn’t run-down, either; more or less perfect for a run-of-the-mill government employee. 

‘You know,’ said Selena, looking up at the rows of doors leading to the various blocks of flats, ‘if he’s on the take with the Council, he needs a better deal.’ 

‘Maybe he’s smart enough to keep his bribes quiet,’ said Eva, heading for one of the doors and letting them in. ‘I hope not.’ 

Amadeus Candlestone was a dour-faced man in his early thirties who looked displeased at being disturbed on a Saturday morning. He opened the door to his second-floor flat with narrowed eyes and a particularly toned, ‘Can I help you?’ which made it clear that help was the last thing on his mind. 

‘Amadeus Candlestone? I’m Eva Saida, a consultant with the DMLE. This is Selena Rourke.’ 

It took only Selena’s surname to make Candlestone take a half-step back. ‘What - what does the DMLE want?’ 

‘Just a conversation,’ said Eva tonelessly. ‘Can we come in?’ 

They were ushered into a flat which looked like it had been decorated out of a magazine. If Amadeus Candlestone was on the take, he still didn’t have very good taste in how to spend his ill-gotten gains. But it meant the sofas were comfortable and the tea wasn’t half bad by the time he anxiously set the cups down in front of them. 

‘It’s a Saturday, but I’m due back into the office for more work,’ said Candlestone as he sat across from them, and Selena could almost smell the lie. ‘I don’t have all day.’ 

‘I appreciate that,’ said Eva with cool professionalism, and Selena could almost believe _she_ really was a law enforcer, not a mercenary, from all her calm control. ‘They’ve got me working on a weekend, too. But this doesn’t need to take long.’ 

‘What can I do for you?’ 

‘I want to ask you about the buy-out of Pudley Limited and the other companies.’ Eva reached for her magically-enlarged inside pocket to pull out a file. ‘The ones we’ve since identified were used by Draco Malfoy to smuggle Lethe into Britain and elsewhere.’ 

Candlestone’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know what to say about that. He obviously had a master forger working for him. Funds had been split across multiple accounts which used multiple false identities, all of them gone now. It looked above board. Look, if you know all this, it must be in the records?’ 

‘I’ve read the records,’ said Eva, calm. ‘But there are discrepancies and questions. Ms Rourke happens to agree.’ _Ms Rourke_. Selena tried to not smile. The choice of titles made it very unclear if Eva was talking about her or her mother. ‘That’s why I’m here. I want you to go through this again.’ 

‘It’s…’ He frowned. ‘Look, I’m not thrilled that I was beaten on this, especially considering the consequences, but I thought I was checking for _fraud_ , not for potential smuggling with a death toll.’ 

‘You’re saying you might have looked more closely if you’d known how high the stakes were?’ Eva cocked her head. ‘In which case I’d appreciate you taking a second look at the evidence, now you _do_ know the stakes.’ 

Candlestone worked his jaw. ‘I’d have to go through all of my own records in the office. I don’t have it to hand here, and I dealt with these cases _months_ ago. I really do have work to do for Minister Halvard.’ 

‘I’m sure Minister Halvard would understand you helping myself and Ms Rourke with a matter of this magnitude,’ said Eva. 

_I_ _’m never playing poker against you_ , Selena thought, and just tried to smile amiably. She suspected she was here to be eye candy, to play good cop, and to imply the existence of the concrete donkey that was her mother hanging overhead. 

He got to his feet. ‘Yes. But if you make an appointment at my office, I can help you better. I’m sorry; if you just -’ 

Eva stood, too - but then her wand was in her hand, swishing at the front door, and the lock tumbled with a rattle. ‘No, I think we’ll continue this conversation here, Mister Candlestone.’ 

She was toneless, expressionless, and Selena’s chest tightened as she looked up at someone she did not recognise - and yet it felt like a decent bet to say this probably _was_ Eva Saida, more than she’d ever been seen by them before. 

Candlestone froze. ‘What _is_ this?’ 

‘A conversation. We’re going to talk about Draco Malfoy’s buy-out of Pudley Limited and the other companies, and you’re going to talk about how you let it happen and what you know of the finances he used.’ 

‘What makes you think I -’ 

Eva swished her wand, and Candlestone’s chair shot forward to hit his legs and knock him back down onto it. ‘Don’t lie, Candlestone, you’re not very good at it. I do hate my time being wasted.’ 

He looked up at her, eyes wide - then found a sneer. ‘If you doubt my words, then take me down to the DMLE. Or there is _nothing_ legal about this conversation.’ 

‘You’re assuming I care about the legality here. I’m not looking for a conviction, Candlestone. I’m looking for information.’ Eva barely moved but still drew every eye in the room. ‘You should be pleased this is happening this way.’ 

‘ _Pleased?_ ’ Candlestone sputtered. 

‘We could go down to the DMLE. Do this publicly. And then any of your superiors also in the pay of the Council of Thorns will hear of what has happened, and they’ll cut you loose, sell you out to spare their own necks. You get to swing for them, Candlestone. And I wouldn’t care, but this might mean any trail you give me gets to go to ground.’ Eva cocked her head. ‘So we can do this here. Just us. And nobody needs to know this conversation has happened.’ 

He struggled to his feet again. ‘I do _not_ work for the Council of Thorns!’ 

But Eva’s wand swished a half-inch and he fell back into the chair with a gurgle, clutching his throat like he’d been struck there. It was a light blow, but a blow to the neck didn’t need to be hard to stun him for long seconds. 

Selena had to fight to keep her seat, the silence filled only by Candlestone’s ragged breathing, and she kept her eyes locked on Eva. She knew voicing opposition could undermine this entire process. But she had not been ready for _this_ , and there was always a bridge too far, and at this rate if she hesitated she might find it far _behind_ them. 

‘I have been perfectly honest with you, Candlestone,’ said Eva in that cold, polite voice. ‘The least you can do is return the courtesy. I don’t need to know the deep intricacies of Draco Malfoy’s fraud. I don’t _care_ about the fraud. I care about the money trail. I care about tracing the accounts he used for the buy-out to accounts still active. If he’s alive and out in the world, he will be spending money, and if I find that money I will find _him_. So, the fact that you were bribed means that the information _can_ be traced; you were just paid to turn a blind eye and patch it over in your reports. I’ll settle for one source. One account number.’ 

Candlestone rubbed his throat, glaring balefully. ‘When this is done,’ he hissed, ‘I’m going straight to Minister Halvard, and I’m having your contract revoked, and I don’t _care_ if you’re working with Chairman Rourke’s daughter because you have _no_ idea who you’re fucking with -’ 

Eva stalked forward, and he pressed back in the chair as she leaned down at him. ‘I thought I was talking with a minor staffer of the Minister. One who’s easily cut loose. I am doing you a _favour_ , Candlestone, because if this goes official then _you_ are damned. You tell me what I want to know, and your superiors on both sides don’t need to know anything about this.’ She rolled her wand in her hand. ‘Or we make this go less easily. And, unfortunately, I’m no Legilimens, so I need other ways of loosening your tongue.’ 

Selena’s throat tightened. _If she so much as twitches that wand, I_ _’m going to have to stop her_ , she thought. And then she remembered combat training with Eva Saida, and then her next thought was, _How the hell am I going to do that?_

Candlestone looked desperately past Eva at Selena. ‘And this is _endorsed_ by your mother’s office?’ he squawked. 

Selena forced herself to shrug. ‘I’m still sat here, aren’t I?’ 

‘Look,’ said Eva, like this was all getting very tiresome, ‘the Cruciatus is a blunt instrument but it’s a favourite for a _reason_ -’ 

‘Okay! Okay! Merlin’s beard!’ Candlestone brought his hands up, pinned back in his chair. ‘I didn’t get into this to get tortured by a crazy bitch!’ 

For a moment Selena thought Eva was going to Crucio him on principle, but then she straightened and gave a slow nod. ‘Just an account number, Mister Candlestone. A _live_ one.’ 

Eva left the flat with a whole sheaf of paper’s worth of the financial details Candlestone could recall, and Selena followed with what felt like a bucket’s worth of bile in her gut and throat. But they remained silent until they were out in the street, at which point Selena grabbed Eva by the elbow and dragged her towards one of the nearest alleyways. 

‘Okay, that was lovely theatre, but we need to talk.’ 

Eva let herself be dragged, but there was a tension to her gaze once they were out of sight of the road. ‘I got what we needed.’ 

‘Except I lied, that was neither lovely _nor theatre_ , so tell me why I shouldn’t go running to Albus or the Auror Office _right now_ and tell them how you threatened to torture a guy in his own home if he didn’t give us what we wanted?’ Selena spat, heart thudding in her throat. 

‘They don’t need to know about this. I didn’t hurt anyone. We have our information.’ 

‘You _would_ have done it, though,’ said Selena. ‘Is that why you didn’t want Albus here? You didn’t want him to get his hands dirty, or see the dirty side of you? Or you knew he’d _stop_ you?’ 

Eva went very still. ‘What makes you think,’ she said, voice dropping, ‘that he’d stop me? You haven’t been paying very much attention to him these last few years, have you?’ 

Selena stared. ‘Did you _not_ bring him because you were afraid he _wouldn_ _’t_ stop you?’ 

‘He’s not what he once was.’ Venom crept into Eva’s words. ‘He’d see the necessity of what I did, just like you did, just like _I_ see the necessity, and…’ 

‘And, _what_? That upsets you? The truth that he’s become _that_ cynical and _that_ hurt -’ 

‘He was supposed to be _better_!’ 

_Oh_ , thought Selena. _There it is. Albus Potter_ _’s got feet of clay._ She drew a slow breath. ‘I thought _you_ were supposed to be better, too, these days?’ 

Eva looked away. ‘I don’t think it matters.’ 

‘What? Of _course_ it matters. That’s the bloody _point_ , isn’t it? We’re not the good guys because we have shiny titles and sit in government buildings, we’re the good guys because we’re _better_. Because we don’t hurt people to get what we want, we don’t use our power to cause pain and suffering. Weren’t you getting on board with that? That sometimes, you take a hit, because it’s that or hurt someone who doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it?’ 

‘I didn’t have to take a hit today,’ said Eva. ‘And nor did he.’ 

‘No, but you weren’t bluffing. _Don_ _’t_ pretend you were bluffing.’ Selena clenched her fists. ‘What is this, now you’re back on the street, you’re right back to what you were?’ 

A flash crossed Eva’s face, so vitriolic that Selena thought she was going to get herself hexed. ‘I am _not_ what I was -’ 

‘You’re sure as _shit_ acting like it. And, why? What’s changed? Or are you so upset Albus showed he’s got _flaws_ that you’re giving up?’ 

She’d meant to be sardonic, but the anger faded from Eva’s gaze as quickly as it had appeared, replaced only with hurt. ‘I was naive,’ she said. ‘The world really doesn’t have time for these kinds of principles -’ 

‘Are you _kidding_ me?’ Selena goggled. ‘It’s just as well I can tell you’re fibbing, or I’d go get the DMLE to lock you up again.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Maybe you’re thinking that if Al can’t stick to his moral guns, nobody can. But you’re _mostly_ feeling _betrayed_ that he’s dared falter in his precious righteousness! You, who turned your back on the Council of Thorns and ruined your life to do the _right thing_ with absolutely no reason to think you’d get anything in return!’ 

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ 

‘Don’t _cheapen_ yourself, Saida. Even _if_ Al has abandoned all of his principles, which I bloody doubt, so _what_? _He_ didn’t break us loose in Ager Sanguinis. _He_ didn’t work for Vadimas and fight the Council these years. _He_ didn’t turn himself over to the proper authorities for justice. And I _cannot_ believe I am stood here listing a murderer’s _virtues_ , but _honestly_.’ She tossed her hands in the air. ‘You’ve turned yourself around for _you_. Don’t give up on that for _him_. You’re better than that.’ 

Eva’s frustration fizzled out and she was stood there, forlorn and somehow smaller in this narrow alleyway. Her shoulders slumped, her gaze dropped, and she said, ‘Am I?’ 

‘I just explained how you are,’ said Selena. Her sympathy only went so far. ‘Don’t say you changed your ways for a guy. That’s just tragic. But what’s _worse_ is ruining yourself for a guy.’ 

‘It was… for him,’ Eva mumbled at the cobblestones. ‘Or, because of him, because he made me think I _could_ change, that the world could, but he was… he’s just like everyone else, really, isn’t he?’ 

‘ _Oh_ ,’ said Selena again as realisation struck, and didn’t sound any more sympathetic when she said, ‘This isn’t about big moral stuff. He hurt you, didn’t he?’ That was perhaps a bridge of indifference too far, and she had to lift her hands at the glower this won. ‘Sorry. Okay. _Definitely_ don’t punish yourself because _he_ fucked up. Even if you think punishing yourself will punish him. You can do a hell of a lot better than that. As for Albus being like everyone else…’ 

She sighed, and drew a deep breath. ‘Everyone’s like everyone else, _really_. But everyone’s also a unique being to _someone_. Do I think Albus has changed? I do. Do I think he’s lost that essential, puppy-like hope and morality and decency? I think it might be dented, but I’m sure it’s not gone. Do I think the principles of the _whole world_ are reliant upon Al Potter’s principles? I do _not_.’ 

Eva was actually wringing her hands together now, forlorn and looking much youngerthan Selena knew she was. ‘Mine were.’ 

‘They weren’t,’ said Selena helpfully. ‘You did this for over two years without him. So I suppose you could throw that away, but assuming you have a shred of self respect, you have two options. You can say “screw Albus Potter, I’m a badass and I don’t need him.” Or you can take the lessons he taught you and, maybe, show them to him all over again. If he needs to remember who he was.’ 

A long silence met her words, but when Eva drew a deep breath, strength returned with it. ‘I didn’t bring Albus,’ she said at last, ‘because I didn’t want to deal with him in a fraught situation. _And_ I didn’t want to give him a chance to disappoint me again.’ 

‘I can understand that.’ 

‘I didn’t _plan_ to come here and torture Candlestone. I didn’t think you’d go along with that, and I believed it would not be necessary. I thought your presence would make pressure easier to apply. I was right.’ Eva looked away, jaw tight. ‘But so were you. I wasn’t bluffing. _Shit_.’ 

‘Two thoughts occur,’ said Selena. ‘The first is that putting you into a situation like that is rather like setting a glass of Firewhiskey in front of an alcoholic. The second is that you should do this work with Albus Potter, because despite all you’ve said, you don’t _actually_ want to disappoint Al. And don’t worry. I’m not offended you don’t care about offending me.’ 

Eva looked at her and winced. ‘I respect you,’ she said. ‘I just think you don’t expect any better of me.’ 

That gave Selena an unexpected flash of guilt - that if she saw Eva Saida as a potential monster and made no secret of that, then it would be so much easier for Eva Saida to _be_ a monster. So she took a moment before she replied, after drawing a deep breath. ‘Maybe I don’t expect it,’ she said softly, apologetically. ‘But I do hope for it. For him, as well as for you.’

* * 

‘This is _fascinating_ ,’ said Rose, pacing about in her parents’ front room. ‘Cassian started this back in 1936; we’ve got almost _ten years_ of his work for the Magical Alliance recorded here, from his personal perspective. He spent quite a bit of time in Berlin in the 30s for his Quidditch team, which was when he came across the rise of the Thule Society in wizarding Germany and Grindelwald’s movement and he was approached _even then_ to spy on and monitor their activities…’ 

Albus and Scorpius, sat on the sofa, exchanged looks before Scorpius raised a hand. ‘Rose. We can - do we really want to get into the exciting historical rise of Grindelwald?’ 

She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘First, this is an extensive recording of a _fraught_ period of history from a _very_ unusual source. Second, this is _your ancestor_ _’s_ experiences, experiences which led to what seem to be _heroic_ efforts against the Thule Society! And third, we don’t know exactly what we’re looking for here, so I started at the beginning!’ 

‘I think reasons one and two were excuses for you to get excited about reading.’ He was lounging on her sofa, an arm across the back of it, wearing that slow, smug smile she remembered. It wasn’t difficult to feel like nothing was wrong, and to stick her tongue out at him as her best, most sophisticated retort. 

She didn’t know if she was kidding herself, or making the most of the time she had. ‘I think context is _very_ useful.’ 

‘Yeah, but if this is so valuable, and he left it behind when he went off on whatever his last mission was, he _presumably_ figured that he might not come back, so we could, you know. Skip to the end.’ 

‘You do that with all your books, don’t you, Malfoy.’ 

‘I _do_ ; the end’s the best part. But you can’t do it with a text book, it doesn’t work as a time-saver.’ 

She rolled her eyes and leafed through the leather-bound journal. ‘I thought you might care about Cassian Malfoy’s innermost -’ 

‘I care,’ said Scorpius. ‘I’d just like to know where he died.’ 

Rose sighed and flopped onto the armchair. With a flash of grey, Artemis pounced from behind the curtains to land on her knee - and the journal - and stretched out across both, purring contentedly, little paws batting at the air in a demand for attention. ‘Oh, _Artemis_ …’ 

Scorpius narrowed his eyes at the cat. ‘ _You_.’ 

Rose wrapped her arms around her pet. ‘Don’t you be mean to her.’ 

‘She’s not a delicate flower who needs protecting, she’s a perforating machine with purrs!’ 

Albus stirred on the sofa. He’d had the gaze of a man a million miles away, jerked from his reverie only by the bickering. ‘Are we - are you - can we get to the point?’ 

Scorpius gave Rose a look, old, silent codes flitting between them in a way she suspected was unintentional. She knew this one. _No, I_ _’m not sure what’s up with him either_. ‘Sorry, mate, thought you’d… I mean, this might give clues on what my Dad was up to.’ 

‘Hm. Yeah.’ Albus rubbed his temples. ‘Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.’ 

Rose started to judiciously wiggle the journal out from underneath Artemis. She’d got it almost out without disturbing the cat until the very last tug, at which point Artemis squirmed, bit her wrist, and then shot off her lap like she’d been mortally offended. ‘Oh, bloody hell.’ 

‘I see she’s _just_ as sweet-natured as ever,’ Scorpius pointed out. 

‘She’s lonely. I couldn’t take her with me after I left Hogwarts. So she pesters Mum for attention but -’ 

Albus cleared his throat. ‘The journal?’ 

Rose huffed and flicked to the back pages. ‘Fine. Fine. I’m reading. Go put the kettle on, Al, I can’t think with you brooding there.’ 

All three of them sat in the same room, poring over some topic or other, bickering and bantering, was strange. It summoned a warm comfort to her chest just as much as it stirred with cold apprehension in her gut. Perhaps this could be the way of things now, the way of her _life_. Or perhaps this wasn’t going to last, and would be taken from her, too. Certainly, Al’s bad mood hung over them as a reminder that nothing was as it had ever been, but he did go, grumbling, to the kitchen. She didn’t look up from her reading of Cassian Malfoy’s neat, once-hidden handwriting. Not even when Artemis pounced on Scorpius, prompting a fresh wave of cursing. 

She did peek up about a minute later, though, to find Artemis curled up on his lap, him scratching behind the cat’s ear, and he was watching her. 

Her gaze dropped at once, but she could feel heat rising to her cheeks, feel all of a sudden every little imperfection of her face, her hair. She nudged a springy, rebellious lock behind her ear, and couldn’t fight the curl of a self-conscious smile. ‘What?’ 

‘I was just waiting. Silently. Letting you work.’ But she could hear the echo of amusement in his voice. 

‘You’re distracting,’ she mumbled, and tried to focus on Cassian’s words. 

‘I’m just sat here. With a cat. Who’s for once not chewing me up. Maybe she knows I’m an endangered species.’ 

It was a joke, but it brought the fresh cold twist to her gut, and her shoulders hunched in. ‘Maybe.’ 

That had him fall silent, though he could still feel his eyes on her, even when Albus tromped back into the living room with three steaming mugs. ‘Sorry,’ Al mumbled as he sat. ‘For sulking, I mean.’ 

‘Al, you have put up with _so many_ of our sulks over the years,’ said Scorpius. ‘I think we can do the same for you. I mean, I _know_ you’ve indulged my sulks. I’m just assuming you indulged Rose’s. Because you’re indulgent and she’s sulky.’ 

Rose decided the best way to answer this was to stick her tongue out at him again. Artemis, as if sensing her mistress’ displeasure, reached out to swat Scorpius’ coaster off the coffee table. He swore. 

‘Yeah,’ sighed Albus. ‘I just wish I knew what to _do_.’ 

‘You’ve got to keep working together,’ said Rose, twirling her pencil. ‘I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.’ 

‘Don’t listen to her,’ declared Scorpius. ‘She thinks problems get solved with adult conversations and mature dialogue.’ 

‘They don’t?’ 

‘Oh, sure, except if Eva’s all traumatised then she’s going to use work as an excuse to be a bristly hedgehog.’ Scorpius clapped his hands together, which made Artemis jump and run away. A glimpse at him showed a little guilt, before he swept to his feet. ‘You should wine and dine her.’ 

Both Rose and Albus had to look up at this, Rose’s expression particularly dubious. ‘What.’ 

‘She’ll be evasive in a work environment. Stand-offish. You’ll only make progress if you risk your lives together and, honestly, I’d rather you worried about survival in a situation like that.’ Scorpius was pacing back and forth, bubbling with that hyperactive energy she remembered. She wondered how much of this was about keeping his own demons at bay. ‘So! You need to demonstrate _your_ affection, _and_ take her out of a work situation. Even better, take her out of her comfort zone.’ 

Albus worked his jaw wordlessly. ‘I… just want her to not be disappointed in me. To talk to me. I’ve _hurt_ her, I’m not trying to seduce her -’ 

‘Oh.’ Scorpius paused. ‘I have been reading you very wrong, then.’ 

‘No,’ Rose muttered, turning a page in the journal, reading on. ‘I don’t think you have.’ She’d meant that to be quiet. At Albus’ look of furtive indignation, she realised she’d not been quiet enough. She coughed and bowed her head again. 

‘This isn’t - it’s _complicated_ ,’ said Albus. 

‘This is why he hasn’t talked to us about romance before,’ Scorpius said to Rose. ‘He thinks it’s complicated.’ 

She gave him a look. ‘Are you kidding me?’ 

Al let out a breath. ‘Hoo, boy.’ 

‘No, look -’ Scorpius flapped his hands. ‘You wouldn’t have thrown yourself at her if you didn’t have a thing for her still. She _clearly_ has a thing for you. Just _go_ with it.’ 

‘This is amazing life advice,’ said Albus wryly. ‘I cannot believe that hadn’t occurred.’ 

‘Did it?’ 

Albus paused. ‘No, but - complicated!’ 

‘I’m serious.’ Scorpius swept back onto the sofa next to Albus, grabbed his mug, and crossed his legs in an exaggeratedly ‘girly’ posture which rather defeated his words. ‘Take her out of her comfort zone, get her on the back foot, and then she can’t use her usual tactics of evasion and work.’ 

Rose peered at him. ‘That sounds more like _manipulation_ to me.’ 

‘Oh. And, you know. Be honest. Did I not say that?’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘If anyone cares more about work than upsetting Albus, I’ve found something.’ 

Albus gave her a desperate look. ‘ _Please_.’ 

‘The last entry is an interesting one.’ Rose leaned back in the armchair, journal in her lap. ‘Especially as it’s written in 1946, and the entry _before_ that was almost a year earlier, on V-Day. He’s talking about how he has to go on one last mission, and he knows he probably won’t come back. The Magical Alliance won’t give him backup, nobody thinks it’s necessary…’ 

She shook her head, then lifted the book and began to read directly. ‘ _The wretched Thule remnant have fled to South America with their Muggle allies. We’re to monitor them only, so says Command. Too many treaties protect them, so it seems that if they limit their spread of filth and pain to the far side of the world, we shouldn’t fuss. Bloody politics. But Raskoph is not amongst them. I was assured, again and again, that he would be hiding like a cockroach under Krauser’s skirts, and of course that is not the case._

_‘He has plans. Schemes; Grindelwald’s fall would not waylay him. He knows too much. He was too close to his goals in Amsvartnir. He is a believer, more fiercely than any save Grindelwald himself. If there is a home of magic, a true Ultima Thule - Hyperborea - whatever these madmen would deem it, then he will not rest until it is found._

_‘I would consider it nothing but ghost stories, myths by even magic standards, propaganda, had I not seen the powers with my own eyes. He transformed a healthy man to an undead abomination with his magic weaved from the waters of Lake Svetloyar. It is the power of death he seeks, and I fear he is on the right path to find it._

_‘The latest rumours of his movement in the far north are ones I cannot ignore. What if I was right? I destroyed the mural on the island, but Adeline refused to destroy her pictures. This was always archaeology to her. Research. Maybe others had records, maybe the Alliance itself is compromised. I trust her with my life, of course I do, but these files go through too many hands in this day and age. What if it did lead to Ultima Thule, what if he’s found it? What if he’s on his way now?_

_‘They won’t listen. They thought I chased ghosts and legends, even by the standards of wizards. I thought the same, too, until I saw the works of Raskoph. He chases death. But even Adeline thinks it’s time to hang up our wands, accept peace. She’d follow me, if I asked, of course she would, but it would be risking her life for me, not for the cause. So it’s better this way._

_‘I hope I’m wrong. If I’m wrong, I’ll spend a few weeks being very cold, and come home, and hang up my wand and maybe accept that vicious lunatic has died in some miserable corner of the world. But I can’t afford to take that chance. The world can’t afford me taking that chance. If I’m complacent and he kills even one more person, that’s on my head.’_

Rose stopped at that, Cassian Malfoy’s words thundering through her heart in Scorpius Malfoy’s voice, and she swallowed. ‘The rest is - you can read it, but it’s more personal thoughts. Notes for Adeline Bachelet, which I think I will copy out and send her. But there it is. After the war, Raskoph went somewhere, and Cassian thought he had to follow him.’ 

‘Cassian Malfoy died out there. Raskoph didn’t,’ said Scorpius, sombre at last. ‘I suppose he failed.’ 

Rose frowned at the journal. ‘It says Raskoph transformed a healthy man into an undead abomination with magic he found in Russia. Thane’s interrogation mentioned Raskoph had come to the Council of Thorns with information which was eventually turned into Phlegethon. I think this is the origin of the Stygian Plagues. I think Raskoph was chasing them for a hundred years.’ 

Her heart caught in her chest. _If we find the origin of the plagues, we may find another cure. A solution that_ isn’t _the Chalice._ Maybe Scorpius had the same idea. She couldn’t tell, so stony was his face when he shot to his feet. ‘We need to go through those Magical Alliance records, then. Find which mission Cassian and Adeline conducted at Amsvartnir. What these photographs were which he reckons lead to a location of Ultima Thule.’ 

‘Ultima Thule,’ said Rose, ‘is a myth. But then, so was the Chalice of Emrys.’ 

‘The folders are at mine,’ said Scorpius. ‘So I’m going to Floo back, I’ll get some reading done, I’ll…’ 

Albus stood, awkward. ‘Do you want me with you?’ 

‘No, no. I’ll just crack on with research.’ 

Rose pursed her lips. ‘I want to do some tests on you, Scorpius. It won’t be difficult, just some magical readings -’ 

‘Sure,’ he said, and headed for the fire. ‘Later.’ 

Then he was gone in a puff of green flames, and Albus and Rose stood alone in her sitting room. Al’s big shoulders slumped as he turned to her. ‘Do you really think you can do this?’ 

‘I think I have a chance,’ said Rose, and it didn’t feel like a lie. ‘And the more we know about Scorpius, the Chalice, and the Stygian Plagues, the bigger the chance.’ 

‘Okay.’ He kicked at the carpet. ‘I’ll… keep up on the hunt for Draco. Maybe Eva’s got us a lead. She said she’d do more work.’ 

They hugged, and he left, and Rose settled down in the golden light of the fat, late afternoon sun to return to her reading. Not just the journal, but her box of research from Matt’s office, the ongoing research on the Chalice, on Lethe, and especially everything Prometheus Thane had given up on his process for summoning the Chalice back, resurrecting Scorpius with it. 

Her father was still in Macedonia, her mother wouldn’t be back for hours, so it was with some trepidation that she stood at the knock on the door. But a peer out of the window showed the flash of familiar blonde hair, and Rose opened up the door with a smile that faded at the awkward, tense look on Selena’s face. ‘What’s happened?’ 

‘Nothing. Some things.’ Selena Rourke sighed, and pushed inside without invitation, because that was what Selena Rourke did. ‘We need to talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I get to do a history/legends note again! Woo!_
> 
> _Amsvartnir is a lake from Norse mythology, presumed to be where the gods bound Fenrir. Lake Svetloyar is a real place in central Russia (specifically the Nizhegorod Oblast). It has also been picked specifically!_
> 
> _Ultima Thule is, of course, an island of ancient European legend. It’s been presumed that early Greek explorers referred to places such as Iceland, the Shetland Isles, and Scandinavia by such a name, but it was also considered to be a place at the ends of the Earth. So in some references it’s just a catch-all name for those sorts of places, in other references it’s a lost island, in the vein of Atlantis. Nazi occultists believed Thule, or Hyperborea (the two were considered one and the same) was the birthplace of the Aryan race._


	30. Live Pure, Speak True, Right Wrong

‘What’s happened? Do you need tea? Is something wrong? Do you want to hold Artemis?’ Rose flapped around Selena as her friend stalked into the living room, all poise and precision in a way that dripped apprehension and faltering control. 

At the last, Selena gave her a sidelong look. ‘No, I do not want to hold your cat - look. Sit down. Nothing’s _wrong_. Nobody’s hurt, or dying, or - nothing _bad_ has happened, I just need to - we need to do a thing.’ 

Heart in her throat, Rose sank back onto the armchair, surrounded by a sea of papers - scribbles, diagrams, hefty volumes, reports, and yet even seeking a solution for Scorpius was less terrifying than Selena Rourke tripping over her words. ‘I could do tea.’ 

‘Weasley, _shut up_.’ Selena’s face creased, and she wrung her hands together. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I need you to listen, okay? Not blab, not yammer about your theories or your anxieties or fuss about trying to fix things before you’ve even heard -’ 

‘In my defence,’ said Rose, trying to keep her voice slow and measured, ‘you’re babbling right now.’ 

Selena scowled. ‘Shut up,’ she said again, much less anxiously. Then she drew a deep breath and apprehension returned. ‘Okay. Okay. It’s okay. We can do this.’ 

‘Do _what_ -’ 

‘Shut _up_.’ Selena twisted her fingers together more. ‘So. There’s a thing you and I don’t talk about. Deliberately. It’s been good, it’s been this little unspoken agreement - we both try to pretend it’s not a thing between us and I _appreciate_ that. I appreciate a good ignoring of the elephant in the room. It’s been healthy. But it’s got to stop.’ 

Rose stared. ‘I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.’ 

‘Yes, you do! You do, you’re not _stupid_ , and we _have_ talked about it before. A long time ago. In Monte Carlo.’ 

Her brow furrowed. Then realisation struck. ‘Oh, you mean in _Monaco_ -’ 

‘That’s what I said.’ 

‘Technically, Monte Carlo is a _part_ of Monaco; if you mean when we had coffee in that little café, that was on the Rock of Monaco -’ 

‘I’m going out with Matt!’ Selena said like a woman so desperate to stop this nit-picking that the confession was welcome. 

Rose froze. Then rewound her brain over not just the last five minutes, but the last two and a half years, through everything she’d seen, everything she’d said and not said, every space between every line. She wasn’t sure if it was the old, familiar emotional numbness which meant she couldn’t summon one iota of surprise. ‘Oh.’ 

Selena cringed. This was obviously not how she’d wanted this to go. ‘Yeah. “Oh”. It’s - it’s complicated - I mean, it’s _not_ , by Venice we had a talk and we basically said without saying that we wanted to. We just both needed a little bit more time - me with Methuselah and him with _you_ , I mean - but then Scorpius died and…’ 

‘Is that why you two fell out?’ Rose got to her feet, gut twisting in a way she couldn’t yet identify. ‘Did you row, or…’ 

‘We didn’t _fight_. Just he was so keen to support _you_ , and I was afraid he would…’ Selena stared at the floor. ‘Drop me for you. So I stayed away. So he couldn’t drop me.’ 

‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me?’ 

‘You weren’t exactly someone’s shoulder to cry on, Rose! And he was _your_ shoulder to cry on! I didn’t want to risk rocking the boat, for you, for me, for _any_ of us.’ Selena wrinkled her nose. ‘Okay, not so much for him. For him I just stayed away. And so he swept around you, and…’ 

‘And so we hooked up,’ Rose concluded, toneless. ‘I’m… Selena, I’m so _sorry_ …’ 

Selena stared. ‘ _You_ _’re_ sorry?’ 

‘I… Matt and I were a messed up choice from beginning to end! We were doomed from the start, we should _never_ have got together. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have interfered!’ Rose grimaced. ‘I’m not accusing you for not telling me, I’m just - it’s bad enough I’ve screwed Matt around like that. I never knew I was screwing _you_ around with it, too!’ 

‘I just came here,’ said Selena, sounding like she was a few steps behind, ‘to admit I’ve hooked up with the boyfriend you broke up with less than _two weeks_ ago, and you’re apologising to _me_.’ 

Rose dropped her hands. ‘I’ve been a wreck for years. I never wanted to hurt anyone _else_ with my hurt, though. Are you two… I mean, are you…’ 

Selena watched her dubiously. ‘I’m not sure I want to let you finish that sentence, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, either.’ 

Rose gestured helplessly. ‘Are you happy? Okay? Are things… okay?’ 

‘It’s early,’ said Selena awkwardly. ‘This only happened the other night. But after so long I’m kind of refusing for this to be an awkward fumbling _thing_ , so I’m trying to do it properly, so I’m telling you before anything gets any further.’ 

‘You want my _blessing_?’ 

‘No, I’m… going to do it anyway.’ Selena winced. ‘I just thought I’d _tell_ you. I owe you that much.’ 

Rose stepped over and reached for Selena’s arms. ‘You owe me _nothing_. You’ve been a _rock_ for me these last two years, and that I played even a small part in messing with your happiness is _horrifying_. I never really thought about you two, you’re right, but of course there was - of course there was _something_. Even if I ignored it, I knew it. I just want you to be happy.’ 

‘Well.’ Selena shifted her weight. ‘I’d like that for you, too, you know.’ 

Rose gave a lopsided smile. ‘Is it your turn to be all awkward about affection?’ 

‘I thought you were going to yell at me!’ burst Selena indignantly. ‘It’s been less than a fortnight!’ 

‘I know. But if he thinks he’s ready, then that’s all the more evidence our relationship ran its course, if it even had a course, _months_ ago. I adore Matt, but I’ve mistreated him _terribly_ …’ 

‘In your defence, he did let it happen all too easily.’ 

‘Maybe. But I’m still going to claim the lion’s share of responsibility.’ Rose squeezed her arms. ‘The least I can do is be happy for you. Both of you.’ 

Selena let out a deep breath, tension flowing with it. ‘Thanks,’ she said at last. ‘Because I didn’t want to hurt you more right now.’ She looked over the papers strewn about the living room, and winced. ‘Do you really think you can save him?’ 

The twist in Rose’s gut had started to unfurl, but the return to the topic of Scorpius brought with it a new twist. This wasn’t a twist of pure dread, because it had that flutter of hope winding in and out, the mixture of conviction and apprehension that had become her new rocket fuel of life. She looked at the research. ‘I think I have a chance.’ 

Selena nodded. ‘I’m here for you in all this, you know? I know you’re flitting off with him chasing all sorts of things, but… if you need me…’ 

‘Of course.’ Rose gave a small smile. ‘And if you need to talk about… you and Matt, about anything, I’m - I’m here. And I really am happy for you.’ 

Finally, Selena returned the smile, and it was a small flutter of pleased anticipation that Rose hadn’t seen since they’d sat in the staff room at Hogwarts, drinking Butterbeer and giggling over a stolen kiss with Methuselah Jones. ‘Thanks. It’s kind of scary, I mean… it’s been so long coming, and he’s _insufferable_ sometimes but you know how he can be really sweet if he puts his mind to it…’ 

It was hard to not sound wistful when she answered, ‘I know. And he really went out of his _mind_ when you were captured, I mean…’ Rose sighed. ‘I don’t think you’ve got reason to doubt him.’ 

‘We’re going to take it slowly. It seems safest. I know you two have hardly broken each others’ hearts, but it was only a few weeks ago, so there’s no harm in being careful, but…’ 

‘No point in holding off out of obligation. I understand. I’m _glad_.’ 

Selena looked at the papers again, and bit her lip. ‘How’re _you_? And Scorpius?’ 

‘I don’t know. It’s the most bizarre thing where we’re not acting like our feelings just _went away_ these past two years. But even _without_ him thinking he’s got limited time, we’ve still both _changed_ , and we’re still figuring it out, and…’ 

‘And that’s complicated, and I bet he’s pushing you away.’ Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Not that I don’t understand, but, _men_.’ 

Rose grimaced. ‘He did explain that a bit more. He doesn’t want to make it harder for himself if he has to - if there’s no other choice -’ 

She hadn’t realised what was bubbling up inside her until she was talking around the issue which hummed through her heart with every beat, whispering, _You can_ _’t save him_. But Selena had seen it, because she immediately threw her arms around her for a close, comforting embrace. 

‘You are the most stubborn person I know,’ Selena whispered. ‘And one of the most brilliant. I believe in you.’ 

Strength faded, the first wavering since she’d pulled herself from the shockwave of Scorpius’ news and buoyed herself up with determination. But if there was anyone she could waver in front of, it was Selena - Selena, who wasn’t counting on her like Scorpius; Selena, who didn’t need supporting like Albus, and so she slumped into the embrace, shoulders hunching. 

‘I can’t lose him again,’ she whispered, voice hoarse. ‘I _won’t_ , it can’t happen, I _refuse_ …’ 

And yet she knew, with every heartbeat, with every word, that stubbornness, determination, and brilliance might all of them count for nothing in the end.

* * 

‘Scorpius.’ 

‘Matt.’ 

The two men exchanged stiff nods across the interview room, and Rose wondered if she could fuse with the table, because if this was awkward then it was going to get worse. ‘I think,’ she said very fast, ‘we should be sure what we’re asking before we go in.’ 

Matt watched her for a moment, then he pulled up a chair and put his folder on the table. ‘I need to consult with him. It’s impossible for him to have summoned the Chalice from the Otherworld without knowing more of its nature. And that’s what I’m going to need if I can unweave the magics which made it.’ He spoke in a low, clipped voice, because they all knew ‘unweave the magics’ meant ‘kill Scorpius’. 

Scorpius, for his part, shrugged. ‘I’m just here because I know him.’ He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ 

Rose sighed and nodded to the Enforcer at the door, who left. Nothing filled the silence until he returned with the shackled shape of Prometheus Thane. 

Weeks of imprisonment had barely affected him. He still walked like a lord, tall and proud and bright-eyed, and he still gave a knife edge’s smile when he sat. ‘Scorpius!’ 

‘We’re not friends,’ Scorpius said. 

‘I don’t _have_ friends.’ Thane extended his hands so he could be shackled to the table by the Enforcer, who then ducked for the door to leave the four of them in the cold meeting room. ‘So you’re one of the closest things I have.’ 

Rose drew a slow breath. ‘We have questions for you, Thane.’ 

‘I’ve written down everything I know about the Chalice, about the Stygian Plagues, about the Council of Thorns,’ he said amiably. ‘There’s very little more I can say.’ Thane looked at Scorpius. ‘How _are_ you? It seems like you’re pretending you’ve had nothing to do with me.’ 

Scorpius’ lip curled. ‘Our alliance was one of convenience, Thane.’ 

Thane blinked. ‘Not that long ago, you called me Prometheus.’ 

‘Not that long ago I was on a suicide mission. Holding grudges didn’t seem a sensible thing to do then.’ 

‘And you’re suddenly _off_ the suicide mission? Just because you’ve been pardoned - or, rather, because they’re not looking too deeply into all the things we did together? Just because you’re back in the world? Did that change anything? Did that change a _single_ reason you stuck by me?’ 

‘I don’t _have_ to stick by you,’ Scorpius snapped. ‘I have a mission, I have a way to be useful and to fight the Council, and I can do this without _hurting_ the people I care about.’ 

‘Is that what you’re doing?’ Thane raised his eyebrows. 

Rose planted her hands on the table. ‘That’s enough. You two aren’t here to argue.’ 

‘No, I hadn’t expected arguments, either,’ said Thane, and looked at her. ‘But are you interrupting me because you have better things to do, or do you know it might turn _unpleasant_ if this carries on?’ 

Looking into Thane’s cold blue eyes was like plunging into ice. She’d only done it once before, squaring off against him in the streets of Monte Carlo, fleeing from a casino and needing to roll a hard six to get out alive. That she’d won that round did not fill her with as much confidence as she’d have liked. ‘I’m here to ask about the Chalice. Not Scorpius.’ 

‘And Mister Doyle here is, what, your note-taker?’ Thane tilted his head. ‘Awfully reduced from your former glory, aren’t you?’ 

Rose saw Thane’s gaze linger meaningfully on Matt’s metal prosthetic, saw a muscle in the corner of Matt’s jaw twitch. But he just shuffled a page over. ‘If we unweave the magics which constructed the Chalice,’ said Matt, ‘we’re theorising that would be a means of destroying it. Because you can’t simply destroy something this ancient or powerful.’ 

Thane clicked his fingers. ‘A fine theory, one I endorse. The Chalice can be removed from this world, as we’ve seen. I did consider tossing it through another Veil, but that strikes me as impermanent and it can’t do the world good to make something keep jumping back and forth between realms.’ He lifted his gaze to give Scorpius a pointed look. 

Scorpius rolled his eyes. ‘They know, Prometheus.’ 

‘Really? You opted for the _truth_? How very novel of you.’ 

‘Tossing it through a Veil would not stop it bridging the worlds, which is the problem. To unravel the Chalice,’ said Matt more firmly, ‘we would need to know more of its origins, how it was _made_. If we can find something detailing even some of the construction magics -’ 

‘Yes, yes. The building blocks. Undo what has been done. You could also maybe keep an eye out for some sort of magical super-weapon, but I’m not sure even a golem-dragon could destroy the Chalice.’ 

Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you have any in mind?’ 

‘None which couldn’t be found in a children’s book of myths, and whose existence had about as much credibility.’ Thane leaned back in his chair. ‘Let me get this straight; he _told_ you his fate was bound to the Chalice, and you’re _still_ seeking its destruction?’ 

Rose glared. ‘You did.’ 

‘He and I have a _very_ different relationship, I assure you.’ 

She didn’t dare look at Scorpius. ‘You have to have some concept of the origin magics of the Chalice.’ 

‘I have theories,’ said Thane. ‘As do you. Old Celtic magics.’ 

‘I’m rejecting the belief that this was made in the time of Merlin,’ said Matt bluntly. ‘It can’t be newer than the 5th Century.’ 

‘I agree,’ Thane said. ‘But there’s nothing to say Merlin didn’t get his hands on it and claimed credit. It’s what all the great wizards do. So you want those Dark Ages records.’ 

‘ _Pre-_ Age of Camelot?’ Matt made a face. ‘I suppose if Emrys found the Chalice in Dyfed, then perhaps it originated there.’ 

‘It’s where I would look. I couldn’t move freely in the British Isles these past two years. I had to follow the trail of necromantic magics and the Otherworld.’ 

‘The Otherworld. Of course, we’re going to want magics intertwined with the worship of Annwn…’ 

Thane nodded. ‘That’s what I’d do. For whom else would a bridge between the realms be made? Find that, you find the origin of the Chalice, you destroy the Chalice, and you kill _him_.’ He gestured at Scorpius, who kept staring, gaze impassive. ‘I hadn’t realised the whole _world_ had gone so cold-blooded.’ 

‘I don’t intend for that to happen,’ said Rose, forcing her voice to be level. ‘Knowing the origins of the Chalice simply means we know _more_. But did you even look for a different way? Or did you just _tell_ him this was the only way, because that way Scorpius danced to your tune?’ 

She didn’t look away from Thane, but she did hear Scorpius shift his weight. There was a tense pause before Thane answered, his smile not reaching his eyes. ‘It’s what I believe will happen. The science backs me up.’ 

‘Yes, I understand that,’ said Rose flatly. ‘I understand that his soul is tethered to the Chalice -’ 

‘No,’ snapped Thane. ‘He fell through the Veil; he is _dead_. The sooner you accept that, the simpler this will become.’ 

‘I am not accepting this without trying -’ 

‘This isn’t about the Chalice sending him to the Otherworld if you interfere with it; this is about how his soul _belongs_ in the Otherworld, and how the Chalice is the only thing _keeping_ him here. If the Chalice is gone, the rules of the _world_ reassert themselves. He is _dead_.’ 

Rose still didn’t dare look at Scorpius, or even Matt, her lips thinned. ‘You made a living out of ignoring rules like that.’ 

Thane leaned forwards. ‘So long as the Chalice is capable of anchoring him in this world,’ he said coldly, ‘it is powering Lethe.’ 

And now she gave a slow smile. ‘So what you’re saying is that I need a new anchor.’ 

Thane paused, and she felt a surge run through her at the idea he clearly hadn’t had. He rolled a shoulder. ‘If you can find anything which shares its properties, its _power_. Bursting with the same life essence the Chalice exudes, and yet interacting enough with the _soul_ , something so intrinsic to death, to be able to make a tether to him. I have studied the ways of the world and these magics, Miss Weasley. Many magics are of life. Many magics are of death. The Chalice is the only thing - the _only_ thing - which is of both.’ Thane looked up at Scorpius, and when he pressed on, he sounded almost apologetic. ‘And so your fates are entwined, and so you are a dead man walking, Scorpius.’ 

Scorpius had gone very still, voice grating when he answered. ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you. It makes it easier for me to be controlled -’ 

‘What _possible_ good could controlling you do me now?’ Thane pointed out. ‘I’m not even due to stay in this country; Chairman Rourke has had her way and I’m shipped to Niemandhorn by the end of the week. You are too far away for me to _care_ to control you.’ 

Scorpius’ nostrils flared. ‘Then why _do_ you care?’ 

‘Because I think you’re deluding yourself, Scorpius.’ Thane’s voice dropped. ‘I think you were dragged back into the world against all nature, and now you’re pretending you can live here. Pretending you haven’t gone too far, that you and I didn’t dance too long in the darkness to be damned by it.’ 

Scorpius shot across the distance, hands thudding on the desk. ‘I am _not_ your weapon any more!’ 

‘I never said you were,’ said Prometheus Thane, mild-mannered as ever. ‘Of course I had something to gain by your presence, of course you were a useful means of keeping those of the Council loyal to your father off my back. But I could have kept you trussed up, a hostage. I sent you on solo missions, I trusted you to have my back, I had you _join_ me in this war. You think I do that lightly?’ 

‘Then _why_?’ 

‘Why what?’ 

‘Why _me_? I don’t mean Project Osiris, I mean why _me_ , forever? Did our paths just cross so often you took a fancy to me -’ 

‘Partially.’ Thane tilted his head this way and that, before he met Scorpius’ gaze. ‘But since you’ve known who I am, you’ve seen yourself in me, haven’t you, Scorpius?’ 

‘I’ve seen my _darkness_ in you. Nothing more.’ 

‘You say that like your darkness isn’t as much a part of you as anything else.’ Thane watched him, then sighed. ‘And since I’ve known you, I’ve seen my light in you.’ 

Rose sat very still, not sure how to deflect this, still too unsure of Scorpius’ moods to want to risk making a misstep. She glanced at Matt, who didn’t even look up, his quill scribbling notes in the folder by itself. 

Scorpius drew a slow, raking breath. ‘So you had to corrupt me?’ 

‘That wasn’t my intention. The world’s seemed to have better ideas. I just wanted to give you a _chance_.’ 

‘A chance at what?’ 

Thane shrugged. ‘Survival, sometimes. It’s why I never killed you when I had the opportunity. For a while, Scorpius, a tiny part of me - a very old, unprofessional, innocent part of me - rather wanted you to _win_. Not enough to give up, of course. But enough that, if I was going to be confronted, challenged, it would be by another facet of me. Because then, if you beat me? At least you _understood_ me.’ 

‘Understood you.’ That was Rose, trying to claw back some sense of control over the conversation. ‘I think I understand that you’ve told us as much as you can, which is precious little we didn’t know or couldn’t figure out, and now you’re back to your old tricks of trying to bluff with no cards.’ 

Thane looked back at her, expression bland. ‘You can’t cheat death, Miss Weasley. There’s always a price.’ 

‘You make it sound,’ she said, ‘like I’m not prepared to pay _whatever_ it takes.’ He opened his mouth to retort, but she stood and went to the door, knocking on it to summon the Enforcer back. ‘I think we’re done here.’ 

Matt closed his folder and tucked away his enchanted quill. ‘I have everything I’d want.’ 

Scorpius just grunted, but by then the Enforcer was unshackling Thane from the table, hefting him to his feet. 

‘A pleasure, as always,’ drawled Thane. ‘I look forward to when we meet again.’ 

‘I’d only be satisfied,’ said Rose, ‘if that comes _never_.’ 

Then Thane was dragged out, and Matt let his chair scrape back noisily as he stood, cleared his throat as he rummaged around with the reports. He only spoke once they were sure Thane and the Enforcer were long gone. ‘I have avenues of research. History of Dyfed was always going to be a start.’ 

Scorpius was watching the door, a muscle in the corner of his jaw twitching. ‘You do what you have to do, Matt. Whatever it takes to end Lethe.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He coughed again. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do with this Ultima Thule thing…’ But his voice trailed off to a mumble, and he left without another word, slinking into the corridors of the DMLE. 

Scorpius tossed his hands in the air. ‘This was a waste of time,’ he snapped. 

She picked up her notes. ‘It was _not_.’ 

‘No, I suppose not. Matt’s found plenty more to get me fucking killed.’ 

By the time she’d gathered her papers and turned around, he was disappearing out the door. ‘Scorpius!’ He didn’t stop, so she had to hurry after him, surging into the corridors of the DMLE. ‘ _I_ learnt things, Scorpius! An anchor? That’s a direction!’ 

‘Sure!’ He was heading for the Apparition chambers, ignoring the looks of any staff they passed. ‘All you have to do is find something just like this _ancient and unique_ artifact!’ 

‘It’s more than we knew! Give me more than _five minutes_ and maybe I can -’ 

‘Can _what_? Break the laws of reality?’ 

‘You being _here_ breaks the laws of reality!’ Rose snapped, by now having to break into a trot to keep up. ‘You _dying_ broke the laws of reality; reality isn’t meant to have huge holes to the Otherworld in it in the first place!’ 

They were really getting stared at now, but she didn’t care. He burst into the Apparition Chamber, but it was to the Floo access that he headed. ‘You need to stop, Rose,’ said Scorpius, and reached for the powder on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ll sort out this Cassian thing myself.’ 

And he disappeared with a puff of green flames before she could answer. The DMLE staffers operating the room just stared; that they were here meant they had permission, but this was not where the biggest rows of the department tended to happen. 

Rose ignored them, snatching up Floo powder. ‘I know where you live, you arse,’ she hissed at thin air, and hopped into the fireplace after him. 

Scorpius was only halfway across his suite by the time she staggered out of the hissing green flames. He stopped and rounded on her, no less irate. ‘I was going to shut that off.’ 

‘You were too slow. We’re going to _talk_ about this.’ 

‘Talk?’ He stalked back over, taller and angrier than she remembered him ever being. ‘You act like if we _talk_ about this, if we _hope_ about this, it’ll get better. It’s not going to get better.’ 

‘So that’s it? You’re accepting you’re dead already?’ 

‘I _am_ dead already!’ Scorpius bellowed, hands thrown in the air. ‘I died! In Syria! Two years ago! I died and _all_ this is, is a cheat, a trick; Thane was right -’ 

‘I cannot _believe_ you’re listening to Prometheus Thane -’ 

‘This isn’t _about_ that, but yes! I am! Because he isthe _only_ one who recognises the truth of this, a truth you are _desperately_ trying to ignore.’ He took a step forward, looming over her. ‘Even if you _could_ find a way other than destroying the Chalice, the guy you loved is gone.’ 

Her mouth went dry. ‘Only if you let -’ 

‘You _saw_ Holga. You know what happened to him.’ Scorpius’ voice dropped, lower and more dangerous. ‘Fifteen people dead, Rose, by my hand. Three, including Holga, killed in cold blood.’ 

She met his gaze, jaw tight. ‘I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to convince me you’re too monstrous to be worth saving. You’re trying to convince me the Scorpius Malfoy I knew is already gone, so why try to save you? As if it’s that simple.’ 

‘It _is_ that simple.’ 

‘Really.’ Rose stuck her hands on her hips. ‘If the roles were reversed, would _you_ give up on _me_?’ 

That stopped him short, and his shoulders slumped. Silence fell for long moments, and when he spoke again his voice grated. ‘No,’ Scorpius admitted. ‘Never.’ 

‘I understand,’ she said quietly, ‘that you don’t want to make this harder. I’m not sure it’s possible, but I respect your choice. But _you_ need to respect that _I_ would rather die than fail.’ She drew a slow breath. ‘Will you let me run some tests? There’s only so much I can do by theory and reading.’ 

‘Sure,’ he said after a heartbeat, but though his anger was dissipating, his gaze on her was firm. ‘You do, though, need to accept that Thane was right about one thing, Rose. I _am_ dead. The cheat is me being alive.’ 

Her lips curled, though she could find no humour or warmth to go with the smile. ‘Then it’s just as well,’ she said quietly, ‘that you taught me to care less about the rules.’

* * 

Albus kept his hands clasped behind his back as he stepped into Eva’s safehouse, and stayed near the door. ‘You asked to see me?’ 

She wasn’t quite looking him in the eye, but she did beckon him to the uncomfortable sofa and the coffee table covered with new papers. ‘I have a lead,’ she said, toneless. 

It was a different sort of toneless, he thought. Guarded, not empty. But he didn’t want to read into it, so he walked over with a brisk, officious gait and sat down, straight-backed. ‘Candlestone?’ 

‘Was bribed,’ said Eva. ‘By Malfoy. He had no concept this was a bribe on behalf of the Council of Thorns, but he knows or suspects people above him in the Minister’s office _are_ on the take. I didn’t press that matter. It was hard enough to get him to talk about this, and I had to assure him I _only_ cared about Malfoy.’ 

‘Do we tell the DMLE?’ 

‘Maybe. But he’s a small player. They might well go to ground the moment he’s picked up. You can do what you like with the information.’ 

That disconnect was not forced. She had truly detached from the matters of British law enforcement. He cleared his throat. ‘What did you find?’ 

‘Financial details from an account Candlestone _did_ find by going through the various false identities and financial records. An old business account of Draco Malfoy’s - twenty years old - from one of his ancient startups which was presumed to have been folded into later corporate ventures. It operates out of Egypt’s Gringotts, so it’s quite discreet.’ Eva pushed over parchment without looking at him. ‘It looks like he’s used it for slush funds for a while. It’s been accessed since his disappearance several times, and while it’s been drawn on so many times from so many different places it’s impossible to tell which is a legitimate withdrawal, there is _one_ name which pops up several times. Gregory Goyle.’ 

Albus frowned. ‘Who is…?’ 

‘An old business associate of his. From those early days. I also pulled a background check; they were at school together.’ Eva tugged out a new folder. ‘But he’s had significant payments from Draco Malfoy, and these have _only_ started since his disappearance. And Goyle’s location is pretty interesting.’ 

‘Greece?’ 

‘Close - contextually. South Africa. Also known as the latest magical hot-spot of Council aggression and Lethe attacks. If Goyle isn’t sheltering Malfoy directly, then I bet he’ll have a clue where to start.’ 

Albus stared at the papers. ‘So all we have to do is cross the world to a country which could face a full-on Inferius attack at any moment.’ 

‘This,’ said Eva, ‘is why you brought me on board.’ 

_One of the reasons_. He lifted his gaze to hers, and while that accusation and bitterness was still faded, he wasn’t sure what was left in its wake. ‘If I sort us a Portkey to Cape Town, then,’ said Albus slowly, ‘you’re still with me?’ 

‘You make it sound,’ said Eva Saida, ‘as if I have a choice but to follow you.’ 


	31. Of Winged Ambition

‘The Chalice was a matter of myth even eight hundred years ago,’ said de Sablé with honest apology. ‘I regret to say I do not know how it fell into the hands of the Templars, but we did not understand it even then. Most knights accepted it at face value as a gift from the Lord, and I was not involved in the decision to bear it with us to the Holy Land.’ 

‘We call it Syria these days. Or, the bit you went to,’ said Selena helpfully, perched on the edge of Matt’s desk. 

‘It was only there that I started to suspect it was something of man, and then we kept it in Ager Sanguinis to understand it better, but you know about that. I would wager its origins _were_ of Britain, and I would agree with Matthias’ theory that the Chalice predates the Age of Camelot. Likely Arthur’s knights found it, giving us our stories of the Grail, and after Camelot’s fall it eventually worked its way into the hands of the Order. But I am a _French_ knight.’ He smiled self-effacingly. 

‘We need,’ said Matt, sat at the desk, ‘to go through all of those _older_ legends of Dyfed, of all south Wales. Of Myrddin Emrys -’ 

‘Okay.’ Selena lifted her hands. ‘I get that myth and history get squiffy if you look before Hogwarts’ time. I get that records have been lost, and wizards have worked so hard to stay hidden they’ve sometimes hidden from themselves. But we need to talk about Merlin. _Was_ he the Emrys who named the Chalice?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Matt said bluntly. ‘The thing about Merlin is that he was obviously centuries old to pop up in Arthur’s Court, and then to study at Hogwarts. He studied at Hogwarts under an assumed identity for years until he confessed the truth to Slytherin. Allegedly. Allegedly, he did it to gauge the Founders and how well they would do with a new era of magical - look, the problem is that he’s a sneaky bastard who used lots of names, lots of faces, and if we try to pin him down anywhere except Hogwarts and Camelot we’re going to tear our hair out. Emrys may have been Myrddin Emrys, a wizard who _may_ have been Merlin. Or Emrys was Emrys Wledig, also called Ambrosius Aurelianus, a 5th century war leader who predated Arthur. But even if we could tell which the _name_ referred to, that doesn’t mean either one of them _made_ it.’ 

‘This,’ said Selena, ‘is why I don’t do the research. Because I’m already lost.’ 

‘I believe that Matthias’ argument,’ ventured de Sablé, ‘is that we must look to myths and legends even wizardkind dismisses to find some shred of truth.’ 

‘Oh, so, just the lost records and tall tales from, what, the entirety of the history of south Wales before the 5th century?’ 

‘You’re right,’ said Matt. ‘We’re flying blind. So we need to go to the source.’ 

‘What, wander Wales and hope we trip over the ritual circle the Chalice was made in?’ 

‘Actually, we want to go to Winchester.’ 

Selena stared. ‘Assume I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ 

De Sablé was looking at him, too. ‘You wish to consult the Black Book.’ 

‘That’s _promising_.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘What a _cheerful_ name.’ 

Matt raised his good hand. ‘The Black Book of Carmarthen is a thirteenth century Welsh document. Or, the better-known Muggle copy is. Wizards had it rewritten as they started to hide themselves from society more and more. _Originally_ it was a seventh century magical record from the Kingdom of Dyfed - Pembrokeshire region - which, yes, is assumed even by wizards to have been about local myths and legends and not that reliable. But there _were_ some historic elements to it, and it’s the best source I can imagine to consult if we want to take the myths about the Chalice of Emrys seriously.’ 

‘I have a _super_ important question,’ said Selena. ‘Why’s it called _the Black Book?_ ’ 

‘It’s just the black bindings, honest. _Honest_.’ 

‘And why’s it in _Winchester_?’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘In short.’ 

‘Er - okay, in short, the King of Dyfed allied with Alfred the Great, King of Wessex, when the Vikings were invading in the 9th century. Winchester was Alfred’s seat of power. The book fell into Saxon wizards’ hands through the alliance, and it stayed there even after the Viking threat, which upset the Welsh wizards a lot. Sort of setting the scene for Welsh-English relations, really, Muggle and wizarding, so -’ 

‘Stolen by English. Got it. _God_ , we’re pricks through history, aren’t we.’ 

The Frenchman Reynald de Sablé smiled. ‘You shall find no argument here.’ 

Matt looked at him, gaze tired. ‘I have another source for you to consult. As you can travel abroad more easily. I need you to go to Bygøy in Norway. Viking raiders stole the Chronicles of Gwrdebyr - King Vortipor of Dyfed - in the 9th century. They’re in the magical archives in the city, perfectly free to view and _also_ a source of political consternation for Britain, but I don’t really care about who owns what.’ 

‘I will arrange for travel and consult the texts.’ 

‘Good. Those are more likely to have information about Aurelianus, in case he’s the Emrys we want.’ 

Selena wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not comfortable with the assumption that we’ll find out about the Chalice’s origins from well-known books and documents which have been in wizarding hands for centuries. Surely it’s not _that_ easy.’ 

‘Maybe not,’ said Matt. ‘But until we found the Chalice, remember, most of the world thought it was a myth.’ 

‘Even the Templars encouraged the world to believe it a legend,’ said de Sablé. ‘Legends can be more powerful, and are also harder to steal.’ He bowed his head. ‘I shall see about arranging transport. Good evening.’ 

He left, the door swinging open and shut to let a splash of humming activity from the main office pen spill into the office. Selena frowned in its direction before she turned to Matt. ‘What’re _they_ all working on out there?’ 

‘Technical magics,’ said Matt. ‘We have the Chalice itself, so they’re experimenting on it. What magics does it react to, what rituals affect it. I suppose the better we understand its fundamental nature, the easier this will all be, but I still believe we’ll need to go to the source. Magic was _different_ when the Chalice was made. Wilder.’ 

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ 

He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to babble on.’ 

‘It’s okay.’ She returned the smile gently, reassuringly. ‘I like listening to you babble.’ 

Matt brightened, but then his gaze flickered and he got to his feet. ‘I, um. I have a couple of errands to run. I’ll send a letter to sort us access to the Black Book, if you’d like to come with me to Winchester, that is…’ 

Selena frowned. ‘Of course. What’s wrong?’ 

‘No, nothing. Nothing.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand, studying the floor for a moment, then drew a deep breath. ‘Do you - I mean, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’ 

The flush that ran through her was so petty it was precious. She thinned her lips to stop a stupid smile from curling them. ‘I would, yes.’ 

‘Good! Great. I, uh, I’m not sure _where_ -’ 

‘I know a place,’ she blurted. ‘Near the _Clarion_ _’s_ offices. It’s magic. Tapas. So it’s, uh, finger-food…’ _So you don_ _’t have to use a knife and fork._ Colour rose to her cheeks, a shame she wasn’t sure she should feel, uncertainty if this was considerate of his hand or rude and patronising. 

But he smiled with relief, either at the thoughtfulness or just so pleased she’d said yes that he didn’t care. ‘Great. Tonight. I’ll drop by your place at seven?’ 

‘It’s a date,’ she said, and now she couldn’t stop the stupid smile, because even if she’d spent nights curled up in his arms with varying degrees of intimacy, something this minor and flirtatious and _normal_ was still a bout of fresh air so strong it could buffet her into a place where doom and grief and the shattering world didn’t, wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ reach her.

* * 

‘You wanted to see me?’ Eva decided formality was the more sensible route to take as she padded into Scorpius Malfoy’s hotel suite, and clasped her hands behind her back. 

‘Oh - Eva - coffee?’ The man himself was at the kitchenette, fighting with a contraption of pipes and steam like it took the effort of scaling a mountain. ‘I _swear_ I can make this thing do coffee -’ 

‘No. Thank you.’ She did rather want a coffee. She also wanted to be out of here as soon as possible, and didn’t fancy precipitating Scorpius Malfoy’s second death by household appliance. 

‘Well, _I_ want a coffee,’ said Scorpius, and all her goodwill was for nothing when the machine gave a horrible choking, groaning noise that made her want to take cover behind the sofa. A tube sputtered before vomiting black ichor into a mug, and Scorpius stared at it for a long moment. ‘This… isn’t coffee.’ 

‘Can’t you just Floo room service?’ 

‘I do, but I have to order _fancy_ coffee that this machine apparently doesn’t do or they’ll judge me. The last time I asked them for normal coffee, they sent a guy up here and he just _glared_ at this machine and it made a brilliant cappuccino.’ He put down the mug. ‘So I think it hates me.’ 

‘I see.’ Eva didn’t. 

‘Have a seat. I’ll Floo us up the fancy coffee.’ 

She sat down, hands in her lap because she wanted to hold onto something whenever she was unsure, and she had no idea what Scorpius Malfoy was about. She certainly had no idea why he was fussing like this, and it was only by the time he’d flapped around the suite, ordered coffee, got coffee, made a small scene over milk and sugar and sat down opposite her that she had the slightest clue. Whatever was going on, it made him nervous. 

That wasn’t reassuring. 

‘I’m going to look after Albus in Johannesburg, you know,’ she said once he’d sat down, because this was getting tiresome. 

‘No - I mean, I know that.’ He frowned and put another sugar lump in his coffee. ‘Of course you are. I trust you.’ 

‘You do?’ 

She hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, but he noticed and gave her a small, lopsided smile. ‘Frankly, I think you’re more deserving of trust than me. Your track record over the last two years is _way_ better than mine over the last eight months.’ 

‘If we expand it to lifetimes, _I_ _’ve_ not saved a school.’ 

‘Perhaps not.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘But I didn’t, not really. Methuselah died to stop the ritual. Professor Lockett figured out the cure, with a lot of research help from Rose. Albus captured us Downing, which got us important information and got us closer to the Resurrection Stone. Thane _gave_ me the Stone. So, credit for me isn’t fair. But you do bring me to the point.’ 

Eva’s expression pinched. ‘Prometheus.’ 

‘He…’ Scorpius’ voice trailed off, and he looked to the window. ‘That’s annoying. I thought we should talk about Thane. He’s something we have in common. But now you’re here I don’t know what to say.’ 

She let out a slow breath. ‘If you were wondering, no. You don’t ever stop feeling like he _made_ you. Owns you, in a way.’ 

Scorpius’ cheek twitched. ‘I wasn’t wondering,’ he said. ‘I was pretty sure of that. The man brought me back from the dead. And then he gave me a cause, a means of fighting. I feel sick that I owe him -’ 

‘But you know you wouldn’t be you if it weren’t for him.’ 

‘And I don’t know if I want to kill him or thank him for that.’ 

Eva regarded him for a long moment. ‘If you want me to tell you that it gets better, it doesn’t. All I can do now is make my decisions for myself, but I know what this is. It’s making the most of the time I have, but the end is still set in stone.’ 

He met her gaze, expression slumped before he drank his coffee. ‘So, South Africa.’ 

She hadn’t helped. Then again, she’d only tried to because he’d asked; she’d known nothing would come of it. ‘I feel like I should tell you to not hate yourself for letting him under your skin. I feel like I should tell you that you’re your own man and you make your own fate, and that you’re free of him now because you chose to be. That if he asked something of you, a part of you wouldn’t want to do it, wouldn’t feel like you owe him. I can’t tell you any of that.’ Eva got to her feet. ‘I’ll look after Albus out there. And I’ll find your father so you get answers before the end.’ 

_Before you die_. It didn’t seem right to pretend this wasn’t the truth of the matter, but Eva wasn’t sure how to mince her words when she wasn’t trying to manipulate someone. 

Scorpius’ expression was creased when he looked up at her. ‘Thanks.’ 

She suspected she wasn’t being thanked for her words of wisdom. She drew a deep breath. ‘You should know I never did what I did thinking it was for the “right” reasons. And neither did Thane. Even if you weren’t sure of your methods, you still did what you did for the _world_. Not your own hide, or money, or politics, or him. You’re not like me. And you’re not like him.’ 

His lips twisted. ‘I’m my very own kind of screwed up monster.’ 

She had to return that sardonic smile. ‘Aren’t we all,’ said Eva Saida, and left. She still wasn’t sure what he’d wanted from her. If it was absolution for the hold Prometheus Thane could have over one’s soul, she couldn’t grant that. If it was camaraderie for damnation, she _wouldn_ _’t_ grant that, because she knew she was destined for a deeper layer of hell. She could, at least, reassure him that she’d look after Albus Potter. In so far as she was capable of that. 

Someone was waiting for her outside her flat when she reached the safe house’s corridor, and her hand was at her wand before she recognised Matt, leaning against the wall opposite her door. He lifted his good hand, expression wryly apologetic. ‘Selena told me where I could find you. I’m sorry.’ 

‘The five of you don’t understand secrets very well, do you?’ asked Eva, letting him into the sparse rooms that passed for home these days. 

‘Oh, we do. We keep them from each other all the time.’ Matt’s brow furrowed as he looked around the bare chambers. ‘The DMLE’s budget sucks.’ 

‘We don’t all have access to our parents’ funds of international information brokering.’ This was the second time in as many hours that one of the Hogwarts Five other than Albus or Selena wanted to speak to her, and so she couldn’t help but be guardedly sardonic. Eva paused by the coffee table and turned to him, arms folded across her chest. ‘What can I do for you?’ 

He kept his apologetic smile. ‘If I’m intruding, I’m sorry. I know you’re out of the country soon. And I know South Africa’s been the Council’s latest target. Regular Inferius attacks to keep the populace scared and tired, just like they did with Greece, before the inevitable strike at their defensive holdings.’ 

‘I just want to get Gregory Goyle and get out. I’m not there to save the nation. Honestly, I don’t know why people can’t just _leave_ Greece. So _what_ if the Council owns a bunch of government buildings and have set up their own people behind the desks with name plaques?’ 

‘You know the Council clamps down on international travel; it’s why the IMC is operating its relief efforts for Greece out of Macedonia. But also, people really don’t like abandoning their homes, or their home countries, especially when doing so comes with a risk of death.’ Matt shrugged. ‘And Inferi aren’t trying to kill them in Greece any more.’ 

‘Then I certainly can’t help the people of South Africa if they don’t want to be helped.’ She was being more cynical than she meant, Eva knew, but failing to help Scorpius had held up an uncomfortable mirror to her own Prometheus Thane-related damage, and she couldn’t help but be suspicious of why Matt was here. 

‘Then help people who do want to be helped. Like Albus. Like yourself.’ 

‘Why is everyone coming to remind me today to look after Al; like I’m a complete amateur who doesn’t watch her team -’ 

But then Matt had reached into his jacket with his good hand and pulled out the metal hilt and crossguard of his sword, the blade itself still nestled in the magically enlarged inch-long leather scabbard. He held it by the leather strap, extending it towards her, and now gave a more genuine smile. ‘This might help.’ 

Eva stared at the sword. ‘This is yours.’ 

He lifted his metal hand. ‘And I get _so much_ use out of it right now. Look, even if I weren’t a bloody cripple, _I_ _’m_ staying in Britain to look into old mythologies, and _you_ _’re_ going into one of the world’s biggest hot-spots. You’ve seen what this thing can do against Inferi. So use it.’ 

Suddenly feeling clumsy, she stepped forward to take the hilt, as ever surprised by the unexpected weight of the hidden blade. She stared at the fine metalwork, the cross on the pommel, and avoided looking directly at him. ‘Why me?’ Her voice was hoarse, so she cleared it and pressed on. ‘I mean, why not Albus? Or the others?’ 

‘I thought about giving it to Scorpius or Rose, and then that thought became complicated and messy so I stopped,’ said Matt with uncomfortable frankness. ‘So I instead worked out who would get the most use out of it, and it was clearly _your_ mission, and out of you and Albus, you’re the one most likely to have a clue how to use a blade. Unless he took fencing lessons in his globe trotting.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘I also remember Brillig, and what you did for me there.’ 

She looked up, eyes narrowing. ‘What, let you go ashore so you could catch Eridanos while you thought I was just as at-risk as you?’ 

‘You let me fight,’ he said, meeting her gaze calmly. ‘Also, Albus mocked the sword when I first got it, so screw him, he doesn’t get it now.’ 

He’d grinned at that, and she had to give a thin smile back. But now it was her throat which felt clumsy, not her hands, and she fought to clear it again. ‘Thank you. I’ll - thank you.’ 

‘Just find Draco Malfoy,’ said Matt awkwardly. ‘And then we’ll call it even.’ 

‘I can’t promise Malfoy will know anything to get your father off. Not if the Minister’s office is just corrupt.’ 

‘I know. But ending the war’s a great way of making all this go away, too.’ 

_Along with my freedom_. Eva shifted her expression into a studied mask, and nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

* * 

With her mother at the office most of the time and her father in Macedonia, it hadn’t taken long for Rose’s research to spill beyond her old bedroom and take over the living room. It didn’t help that she had two projects. Most of Cassian Malfoy’s old Alliance files were with Scorpius, because he had the time and the space, but she still had plenty of copies strewn about the left side of the room, to pore through when she needed a change of pace. 

The right side of the room was focused on Scorpius, the Chalice, the Veil, and her project planning on cheating death. So it seemed serendipitous when Reynald de Sablé knocked on the door with all the polite formality she would have expected of a twelfth century knight. 

‘I am truly sorry to intrude, Miss Weasley,’ he said, nod so low it was almost a bow as he stepped in. ‘I shan’t impose for refreshments.’ 

‘I can put the kettle on. It’s not exactly difficult.’ Rose looked him up and down and tugged a pencil from where she’d tucked it away in her hair. ‘I’m glad you stopped by, actually; I’ve done a few diagnostic spells on Scorpius and I already had Matt’s medical records after Ager Sanguinis and his resuscitation by the Chalice, but I have nothing on _you_ …’ 

De Sablé paused. He’d learnt how to dress like a normal member of modern society, though his coat and clothes were shabby and Rose had to wonder how much Gabriel Doyle had paid the man. Potentially he was still living in accordance with his vows as a warrior-monk, which wouldn’t grant him any personal wealth. But his honest expression still creased with a measure of confusion and concern. ‘By all means, Miss Weasley. If there is anything I can do to help you in your endeavours, you need to but ask.’ 

‘I’m thinking,’ she said, twirling the pencil, ‘that you’ve been sustained for so long by the Chalice that you’ve physically, magically changed. And yet, you weren’t affected by the Chalice being lost through the Veil - were you?’ 

‘I was not.’ 

‘Now, Matt had absolutely no lingering presence of the Chalice’s magics. In the same way that healing magic doesn’t leave a signature once the body has recovered, the Chalice was only needed to bring him _back_ , not to keep him alive. Scorpius _himself_ is similarly lacking in any of the Chalice’s magics within him, but then again the Chalice’s magics _themselves_ weren’t used to sustain him. I _can_ detect the connection between him and the Chalice, but only now I know how to look for it. But _you_ …’ 

‘Are almost a thousand years old,’ said de Sablé with a gentle smile, ‘and this is because I have drunk repeatedly from the Chalice of Emrys. Yes, it has likely left some lingering effects.’ 

‘If I am to try to keep Scorpius in the realm of the living when the Chalice no longer keeps him there, I need to find an alternative to the Chalice itself. Drinking from it won’t help him. That would keep his body whole and keep his soul bound to his body, which just means both body _and_ soul return to the Otherworld.’ Rose was thinking aloud, so she didn’t wait for de Sablé to confirm or deny this. ‘Any other healing magics or healing objects would really likely do the same. So I’m wondering if I can duplicate what is keeping _you_ alive in Scorpius.’ 

He opened his arms. ‘Then begin your spells, Miss Weasley.’ 

She did so, wand drifting across him and invisible patterns of magic springing up which she could nevertheless sense and understand, a layer of the weave of wizardry that she’d only come to understand in her more advanced studies. Magic could be seen and smelled and heard, but at some point it was simply _known_ , in her bones and inside her head, and that was what she needed now. 

‘I fear,’ said de Sablé after long silence, though her work wasn’t finished and he didn’t move, ‘that the effect on Scorpius is different, because it affects his _soul_. My body has been prevented from ageing. Matthias’ body was rejuvenated, and so soon after death that his soul had not passed on. But nothing _happened_ to Scorpius’ body. He and his soul simply passed into the Otherworld, and it is the tether between the Chalice and his soul that has linked their fates. I do not know if my soul has been affected.’ 

‘I understand the difference,’ said Rose, and tried to not be sharp. ‘But Thane mentioned that the Chalice is an _anchor_ for Scorpius’ soul. I’m hoping to find a _new_ anchor.’ 

‘I see. That is a fine theory.’ 

‘I’ll be happier when it’s fine practice.’ It took long minutes before she was done, then she stepped back, wand lowered, brow furrowed. ‘I _can_ detect the Chalice’s magics within you, though there’s obviously no tether. I think that repeated exposure has almost literally enchanted _you_ , enchanted your body. There’s a very faint, self-sustaining production of those same magical energies, constantly rejuvenating you.’ 

‘It is not as powerful as it may seem,’ de Sablé warned. ‘I can and have sustained injury. I heal no better than any other wizard, and I am confident I can be killed. It seems that whatever magics reside within me only stop me from ageing.’ 

‘It’s still a start. If I could duplicate that effect in Scorpius, then perhaps he could be his _own_ anchor…’ 

‘However, this happened to me after drinking of the Chalice repeatedly over decades. And will that be any different to exposing him to the waters of Glanis’ Spring or its ilk? You need something of life _and_ death. To recreate, somehow, that same energy with a foot in both realms.’ He grimaced. ‘I am sorry; I do not mean to undermine your theories. It is a good theory.’ 

Rose let out a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. ‘I’m still clutching at straws. I’m sorry, Mister de Sablé - thanks for helping me. What can I do for you? I guess I just leapt on you the moment you got here…’ 

He chuckled. ‘In truth, I came here for this. I did not know you needed me like _this_ , but I am due to leave the country on business for Matthias and I wished to visit you before I left.’ 

‘Me?’ 

De Sablé’s dark eyes softened. ‘You have a long path ahead of you, Miss Weasley. You undertake the most difficult of challenges. I wanted to, in essence, wish you well. You will need faith.’ 

Rose winced. ‘If you came here for some religious encouragement, I’m sorry, but -’ 

He smiled. ‘I have accepted that wizardkind has changed in many ways. A lot has changed in many ways. But some things do not. Such as good hearts against the darkness.’ 

‘In my experience,’ she said, trying to not sound bitter, ‘it takes more than good hearts to overcome darkness.’ 

‘Not in the end. We lose some battles. The war is not over.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I wanted to remind to to cleave to hope. It is the most essential of weapons for any cause.’ 

‘Please don’t think I’m not grateful for your kindness, and your help,’ said Rose, brow furrowing. ‘But why have you come to _me_?’ 

De Sablé winced. ‘I may have tried to hide the Chalice away from the world. But perhaps I should have tried harder. Or perhaps I should have destroyed it, cast it into the Veil of Ager Sanguinis centuries ago. It changes men, and it has been used for unfathomable evil, far more than it has been used for good. I was its guardian for hundreds of years. I should have been its destruction.’ He looked away. ‘You are one who has been hurt by its existence. Comfort and encouragement as you reject that pain and forge a new destiny is the least I can offer you.’ 

Rose bit her lip. ‘You slept,’ she said. ‘For centuries, even though you didn’t _have_ the Chalice to watch over. Why?’ 

‘Because it was not a life I should have had. Better, I thought, to not indulge in these centuries. Better, I thought, to instead be there if the world needed me, so I could be called upon if my expertise was needed. These centuries should not have been about my happiness. They were a boon, and so I believed that my only appropriate response was to give them to duty.’ His mouth curled wryly. ‘It did not help that the Knights Templar were all but extinguished and my presence long forgotten. That was not intended.’ 

She let out a slow breath. ‘There’s one thing I’ve been told a good few times,’ she said. ‘And I’m kind of running out of arguments against it. Maybe this is a life you “shouldn’t” have had. But there are a lot of deaths that “shouldn’t” have been. The way to compensate, or so I’m being told, is to _embrace_ that life. Live it. Because there sure as hell are people being denied that chance.’ 

‘Maybe,’ said de Sablé, though his nod was firm. ‘Once the war is done.’ He looked her up and down, then glanced to the papers. ‘You seem committed to duties yourself, rather than life.’ 

‘Maybe that’ll change,’ said Rose. ‘Once the war is done.’ _And if I win._ She squared her shoulders. ‘Thanks for this, Mister de Sablé. It really does help for someone - especially someone who knows the Chalice - to treat me like I’m not just in crazy denial.’ 

‘One man’s “crazy denial”,’ said de Sablé, ‘is another’s faith.’ 

A smile curled at the corner of her lips. ‘That sort of faith,’ she said, ‘is faith I can cope with.’ 

‘I do not know Scorpius well. But it seems like he is a good man.’ 

‘He is,’ sighed Rose. ‘Even if he’s too damned _humble_ about it -’ 

Then she almost jumped out of her skin as the fireplace burst into bright, green flames, and a familiar, excitable voice squawked, ‘Ha, Weasley, I’ve _beaten_ you with my dazzling brilliance! Like, seriously, they’re going to need to erect statues in my honour…’ 

This wasn’t all Scorpius said, but it was all Rose heard as she closed her eyes. She didn’t know if she wanted to facepalm, laugh, or burst into tears, but when she looked up, de Sablé wore a gentle, encouraging smile. 

‘I shall let you talk,’ he said quietly, and gave a low bow. ‘Safe travels.’ 

‘What did he want?’ Scorpius’ bobbing head in the fire asked as de Sablé walked out the door. ‘You’ve not picked up a thing for massively older men in my absence, did you?’ 

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and turned to the flames. ‘You’ve found something?’ 

‘I _have_. Look at this!’ His head beamed. ‘You can’t see this because it’s paper and I’m holding it up and I don’t dare put it in the fire in case it - you know what, I was going to make this a dramatic reveal, but I’ll…’ 

His head disappeared, and she frowned at the dying green embers until the front door burst open and Scorpius walked in properly, clutching a folder. ‘Ta-da!’ 

Rose frowned. ‘That’s just the folder Bachelet gave us.’ 

‘Yes, but it - combined with the _journal_ , and exciting research of mystical historical matters which weren’t actually as boring as I thought they’d be…’ He crossed to the coffee tale and dumped his papers on it. ‘So the last journal entry mentioned a run-in with Raskoph in Norway, and how various carvings and stuff were destroyed by Cassian, but Bachelet kept some pictures? And it seems like Cassian used _those_ to figure out where to go to chase after Raskoph.’ 

It took her a moment to switch gears from the Chalice to Cassian Malfoy. ‘Yes,’ said Rose, ‘but we looked at those pictures and even the translations and they weren’t that helpful.’ 

‘No,’ Scorpius agreed, leafing through papers. ‘They’re not. But Amsvartnir looks like it was some sort of old ruin; the records mention that it was a shrine several _thousand_ years old. Added to over the ages, and the last records were in Norse runes, left by the Vikings, right?’ 

‘Right?’ She’d honestly focused more on the Chalice. 

‘And I looked at some of the Alliance’s other old records, and that was no good, but I guess if the secret was in the Alliance operational files, Bachelet would have figured it out. So I went through the journal. All of it. And I’m glad we figured out how to make more dust, because I’d have run out, but one page I thought was left blank because Cassian really hated writing on the left-side of the diary turns out _wasn_ _’t_. It was a map.’ 

‘A map?’ 

‘So many of the places where Cassian and Raskoph fought were ruins of old magical settlements, and I mean _old_ , thousands of years old. But Amsvartnir was _also_ really near an old Viking magical settlement, so a place only about a thousand years old? I guess the Vikings were interested in old magic, too. Cassian checked the place out - on his own, apparently, Bachelet was doing other work.’ 

‘I’m lost,’ admitted Rose, and wondered if this was how other people felt when she walked them through her findings. 

Scorpius let out a deep breath. ‘Cassian found intricate records of wizards thousands of years old at Amsvartnir. That’s what was in the Alliance records. What _wasn_ _’t_ in the Alliance records was what he found about the _Vikings_ , who had apparently _also_ poked and prodded the ruins of Amsvartnir a thousand years ago and kept their own records. Which mentioned an expedition to the west to look for more answers at the frozen end of the world.’ 

‘The frozen end of the world. Ultima Thule?’ 

‘The map in the journal wasn’t much use, because -’ Scorpius pulled out the journal and flicked through it to show a pencil-drawn map. Rose could make out a coastline, some geographic features, but it looked like it didn’t cover more than a hundred miles of distance. ‘I mean, it’s precise, but unless we could identify where in the world that bloody coastline is, it’s useless.’ 

‘But you’ve found the coastline?’ 

‘I had to cross-reference it with some of the historical records of Viking expeditions, magical and non-magical, but I think, I _think_ I know where the Vikings from Amsvartnir went. They didn’t give their destination a name, but Viking wizards from Trondheim made mention, fifty years _later_ , of the Vikings of Amsvartnir going to Helluland.’ 

Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re waiting for me to say something so you can reveal it dramatically, but I don’t -’ 

‘Baffin Island, right at the north-east of Canada,’ said Scorpius with a beam. ‘There’s something ancient and magical in a specific spot of Baffin Island, and I think I have the directions. The Norse wizards from Amsvartnir went looking for it. Raskoph went looking for it. And Cassian Malfoy went looking for it. And that’s where he died.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Black Book of Carmarthen is a real book. 13th century, considered one of the first full texts written in Welsh. I couldn’t pass on the idea that it had sections the wizarding world had contributed to and then hidden away, because that’s such a cool name and such an awesome piece of historical literature._
> 
> _I had **already planned** on using it in the story before, in March 2015, high resolution photography and UV lighting revealed hidden sketches, doodles, and passages in the Black Book which hadn_ _’t been_ ** _seen_** _for hundreds of years (I_ _’d also thought up the hidden text in Cassian’s journal already, for the record!). This isn’t actually relevant to the story, because obviously Matt and Selena aren’t going to go looking for the passages revealed to Muggle eyes in 2015, but seriously. History? I have to make up_ ** _shockingly little_** _and I just wanted to reveal that amazing little nugget in this author_ _’s note to prove what a ginormous nerd I am. And also sometimes synchronicity is a thing._   
>    
> _Vortipor **is** a figure of history of such scant record as to be near-mythical, a 6th century King of Dyfed. Any __‘Chronicles of Gwrdebyr’ - which is another name for him - and any theft are entirely fictitious._


	32. On the Dusty Ways

‘Thanks.’ Albus looked at the cup, then across the table at Selena, who seemed intent on drowning her tea in sugar. ‘What do you want?’ 

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I ask you to a perfectly nice teashop and I’m buying and you -’ 

‘And _you_ never do this.’ He lifted his hands. ‘I’m grateful. I’m just suspicious.’ 

‘Well, _yes_ , I want to talk. It’s like you work for the Auror Office or something. You know…’ Selena snapped the sugar-tongs. ‘I need a pair of these at home. They’re great. Snip snip.’ 

‘Selena -’ 

‘Snip.’ 

‘Selena!’ 

‘Fine!’ She put the tongs down. ‘We _could_ have had some nice tea and cake, but you decided to ignore the pleasantries. So we’ll skip to business and _that_ means we skip _cake_.’ 

Albus’ expression fell. ‘This place does amazing lemon cakes -’ 

‘No. No lemon cakes.’ She stirred her tea. Britain was recovering from its shock over the Hogsmeade attack. The village itself was still being rebuilt only slowly, as the surviving townsfolk licked their wounds before rallying, but less and less were witches and wizards across the country assuming they would be murdered by the Council of Thorns if they strayed outdoors. Thornweavers struck distant lands like Greece and distant cities like Durban; Thornweavers didn’t strike quiet teashops off Diagon Alley, and so they sat in an establishment enjoying modest custom and offering good tea. 

‘Anyway,’ Selena continued, ‘I asked you here so one or both of us can storm off if we need to. And we might need to, because I don’t really want to be here, and I suspect, once I start, _you_ won’t much want to be here either.’ 

‘This is very encouraging,’ Albus lied. 

‘It’s about Eva. Saida. Eva Saida.’ Again Selena’s nose wrinkled, no doubt sharing his consternation on the simple topic of familiarity when it came to Eva. 

His gut folded up, like an envelope containing all his guilt as it tried to slink away and instead just burnt. ‘What about her?’ 

‘You’ve done something to upset her. By which I mean you’ve rattled and disturbed an already seriously disturbed mind, and I wouldn’t _care_ …’ She sighed. ‘I would pretend I’m here out of morbid curiosity. But the truth is that I owe her a little bit, and I don’t _like_ owing someone like Eva Saida, so the least I can do is figure out if I _can_ help. And on a kinder note, I imagine _you_ _’re_ not exactly alright if things have gone awry in a situation which couldn’t be more wry if it were, well, me, and I actually care about _your_ wellbeing -’ 

He wasn’t used to being interrogated by Selena; the two of them had done a fine job of staying out of one another’s business over the years, mostly by having very little in common. But he knew by observation that she didn’t ramble like this when on the war-path, so he blurted, ‘I kissed her.’ 

Selena’s eyes narrowed. ‘That doesn’t sound like a disaster unless you’re _really_ bad at it.’ 

‘I’m not - that isn’t the point.’ He stared at his tea. ‘I then called her Lisa.’ 

‘ _Ah_.’ 

He cringed. ‘I also didn’t just _kiss_ her, I was - it was after I’d heard about Scorpius, and I…’ The desire to explain himself, even if justification or absolution weren’t possible, rose. But words crumbled away from the concepts, leaving him doing nothing more than gesticulating incoherently. ‘I wanted to - she was there and -’ 

The narrowing of Selena’s eyes was now a knife’s edge. ‘ _And_?’ 

‘And I threw myself at her.’ Despite its accuracy, it felt like an inadequate summary. ‘And she threw herself _back_ , but I suppose I didn’t want _Eva_ , I wanted _Lisa_ , but Lisa didn’t ever exist, not really…’ 

She watched him for further long, thudding heartbeats, until she let out a slow breath. ‘That answers one thing.’ 

‘It does? What?’ 

‘You _definitely_ don’t get any cake.’ 

‘Selena -’ 

‘ _Al_ , you’re a really big guy, do you know that?’ 

He rocked back on his chair. ‘I didn’t _force_ -’ She’d kissed him back. She really had, with a passion _Lisa_ had never held, a reckless abandon and need he hadn’t known he’d wanted until he’d tasted it. But in the seconds before, he hadn’t _cared_ if _she_ needed _him_. All he’d cared about was the pain he wanted to use her to smother. ‘When she told me to stop, I stopped.’ 

Selena looked as unconvinced by that as he expected. ‘There’s this cute thing where guys, sometimes in very _carefully observed subtext_ , sometimes outright, seek a “yes,” or even an _invitation_ instead of settling for the absence of a “no”.’ 

‘The _moment_ she pushed me away, I was gone, and I did _not_ press the matter -’ 

‘Good, and maybe you _did_ read it right, maybe she _was_ totally fine right until you screwed it up.’ Selena held up her hands. ‘But you’re a big, strong guy who doesn’t _know_ how intimidating he can be. You’re also a _charismatic_ guy, and one she has pinned her entire bloody sense of identity and morality on. So do you think it’s responsible for you to say, “jump,” if all she’s going to ask is, “how high?” You don’t think you have a responsibility -’ 

‘I didn’t _ask_ for this responsibility!’ he barked, hands slamming onto the table. 

It wasn’t the glances from other tables that made him freeze. A raised voice at a teashop might draw attention, but a little embarrassment wasn’t enough to make him want to curl up into a ball. What stopped him in his tracks, what took his frustration and angry sense of helplessness and made him choke on them was that Selena _jumped_. 

He dragged his hands back across the table and stared at them. Large hands, muscular hands, physical gifts he’d taken for granted as much as his magical aptitude, because when he lived in a world which wanted to kill him, he wasn’t about to question his prowess. It could keep him alive and, more importantly, keep the people around him alive. 

Except for when he’d hurt people. 

And except for when he’d done _nothing_. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, even though Selena was already recovering, even if he could see she’d only been _startled_ , not truly frightened. ‘I’m - I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t think, and I wasn’t thinking _then_ , and I didn’t want to hurt her.’ 

The fear of himself pounding through his gut softened when she reached for his hand, and his shoulders sank. ‘I don’t think you’re solely responsible, Al. This thing between you two is beyond messed up. And most of this you didn’t bring on yourself. But you need to remember the effect you have on people.’ 

‘I didn’t _ask_ for that,’ he muttered, then remembered he was talking to the woman whose first love had been murdered by the Council of Thorns. ‘Putting other people first was all very well and good once upon a time,’ he tried instead, ‘but when you’ve been hurt, _really_ hurt, you know - you know better than most - that you have to lick your own wounds.’ 

‘For a time,’ Selena agreed, ‘but you can lick your wounds your whole life if you let yourself. Eventually you have to decide if you’re going to be conquered by that pain, or if you’re going to conquer _it_. Rose was conquered by it, for a time, but now she’s going absolutely mental and I think she might burn down heaven itself if it gets in her way.’ 

Albus made a face. ‘Why does _everything_ keep coming back to Scorpius?’ 

‘Because you let it,’ she said bluntly. ‘Because you pretend you made yourself around him. And I get that. For a very long time I thought that Methuselah _made_ me not be a stupid, immature, self-absorbed brat. And then I realised that he saw the better parts of me deep down, and not only did he bring them out, he made _me_ want to bring them out. Scorpius didn’t _make_ you that great big fluffy hero. Lisa Delacroix didn’t, and Eva Saida certainly didn’t.’ 

‘Fluffy hero.’ 

She shrugged and drew her hand back. ‘If you want to be. Or you can be something else. That’s kind of the point, Al. It’s _your_ choice. Not Eva’s, not Scorpius’, and certainly not your grief’s.’ 

Albus drew up his gaze and regarded her, the one of their group he knew he had always at least subconsciously underestimated, pitied rather than respected, and found he had something new to be guilty about. But this was, at least, guilt with a glimmer of hope on the far side. It was a new sensation. ‘You make it sound so easy.’ 

‘No, I make it sound _simple_. Because it _is_ that simple,’ sighed Selena Rourke. ‘But simple things can still be hard.’

* * 

‘…so that was when I realised I had _no_ idea where I was, except for “down a dark alleyway in Cairo on my own,”’ Matt said as they walked the long, night-clad street, winding between the bursts of light from lamps and the windows of houses. ‘And sure, I had my wand and a magic sword but I _also_ had half the expedition’s requisition funds on me…’ 

‘Oh my God.’ Selena tried to not laugh, pressing a hand to her cheek. ‘You got mugged?’ 

‘I didn’t, but only because I got _so_ lost that I got a bit of a lead on the guys following me, and they hadn’t got a _very_ good look at my face.’ His lips twisted. ‘So I conjured up some fabric to make a makeshift headscarf, ducked down another alleyway, and all I could do as they came past was pretend to be a very confused and very _drunk_ French tourist.’ 

‘ _French_?’ 

‘I could babble at them in French; I really don’t know enough Arabic to fake it. I thought I could try German, but French is more common in the Middle East -’ 

‘And they bought it?’ 

Matt shrugged, grinning sheepishly. ‘They did. I looked like someone completely different, so they carried on by.’ 

‘What happened then?’ 

‘What do you think? I got someplace high so I could figure where I was, apparated back to the hotel, and I sure as _hell_ didn’t tell Rose how much trouble I’d got into!’ They both burst out laughing, eased along by a night of good food and good wine and good company. ‘She still doesn’t know that one, so be careful before you drop me in it.’ 

Selena felt the twist in her gut. ‘I won’t volunteer it. We’re still trying out this new honesty thing.’ 

Matt sobered. ‘How’s that going?’ 

‘Actually really well.’ She offered him a reassuring smile. ‘She’s fine with all of this, Matt. With us. I know you weren’t sure about how to tell her, but she and I - we’ve kind of lied about this for a while. Even by omission. It didn’t feel right any more.’ 

‘Hey, I never wanted to get in the way of you two. I’m just glad you’reboth okay.’ 

But they were at her house now, at the steps to the front door, and they both stopped. She watched him shove his good hand in his pocket, the prosthetic hanging by his side; watched as his shoulders hunched up and his gaze took on a guarded, apprehensive glint which was so mundane and yet still set her heart to skipping for its normalcy. 

‘Well, this is me,’ she said uselessly, like he hadn’t spent nights in her guest room already. 

‘Yeah,’ said Matt, and bobbed his head. 

‘I don’t - did you want to come in?’ Selena jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘Coffee, or a drink, or…’ The _or_ trailed off, a lingering implication of a hundred unspoken suggestions and possibilities, and though they were the masters of the unspoken, she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Even if she didn’t know _what_ she was suggesting. 

It was only little comforting to see his awkward shuffling. ‘No, no, thanks, but I should - I’m up early and giving a report to Ms Granger…’ 

‘Oh, of course.’ She tried to not take it as a sting. ‘Yeah, there’s that, of course.’ 

‘It won’t - I want to be sharp for it,’ Matt blurted. ‘So I’ll, er, I’ll be off?’ 

_Why is this so hard_? Selena tried to not bite her lip as she stood at the bottom of her steps, looked up at him, and said, ‘Yeah. Good night.’ And waited. 

It was so long since she’d been here; a normal date, with the normal apprehensions about a normal relationship. Worse, the last time she’d been anxious about new boundaries with a guy, it had been Methuselah. So when Matt hesitated, that last surge of guilt had her step forward, bring a hand to his cheek, and lean up for the goodnight kiss. 

He melted, at least, at the touch; leaned in and for a moment it was an end to the evening she’d hazily envisioned, a gentle, lingering kiss which left her eager enough for more that she stepped in, snaked her arms across his shoulders, tried to drink up the moment even if it wouldn’t last. 

For a heartbeat, his good hand came to her waist - and it was like that stung him. He didn’t break the kiss so much as end it with unexpected speed, and stepped away, expression still that awkward uncertainty. ‘Good night,’ Matt blurted, but before she could respond he’d reached for his wand and with a _crack_ , was gone. 

Leaving her clutching at thin air. 

‘Piss.’ She thought, for a moment, of going inside and going to bed and pretending this hadn’t happened. But that brought with it a flash of loneliness that clawed at her guts. She was supposed to be doing this differently. Then she considered going inside and talking to Miranda, but their rejuvenating friendship only went so far. She could talk about old wounds with her old friends, because she understood them inside and out and could ease Miranda back into understanding _her_. New, unknown vistas of uncertainty and fluid emotions would only encourage Miranda to treat her like she was made of delicate glass. 

‘Piss,’ said Selena again, because there was only one person who could help her with this, and the idea was so bad that for a moment repression seemed like a good idea. 

_You_ _’re trying to do this one right. Give it a chance_. Lips thinned, she grabbed her wand and Disapparated. 

The knock on the Old Rectory door was answered by, of all people, Hermione Granger. By now, Selena had almost forgotten this was where Rose’s parents lived, not just Rose herself, so busy was the entire family with business of the wider world. ‘Oh, uh. Sorry for stopping by so late. Is Rose here?’ 

Hermione looked only a little disgruntled as she let her in. Rose was in the living room, surrounded by papers of her mad obsessions, a defiant look in her eye Selena suspected wasn’t for her. 

Brilliant. She’d interrupted an argument. 

‘Selena, hi - we can talk about this later, Mum.’ 

Hermione tossed her hands in the air. ‘Can we, now?’ 

Selena cringed towards the door. ‘I _really_ don’t have anything urgent -’ 

‘It’s only Baffin Island, Mum. Either something’s _there_ , in which case we have to look into it, or _nothing_ is there and so we’re _perfectly_ safe.’ 

‘I don’t like you going that far away on your _own_ ,’ said Hermione, and Selena stared at the ceiling as the argument apparently did _not_ stop for her. 

‘I won’t be on my own,’ said Rose hotly. ‘I’ll be with Scorpius.’ 

‘Scorpius Malfoy, a boy whose recent history is _adorned_ with gaps and mysteries and things I _know_ you’re not telling me -’ 

‘You didn’t mind me going to Niemandhorn with him!’ 

‘You were on the most secure transport route to the most secure castle in the world with him. _This_ is going out to the middle of nowhere!’ 

Rose stomped up to her mother. ‘If this leads to the origins of the Stygian Plagues, if we find where Raskoph _discovered_ them, then this could save everyone. Forget the Chalice, this could produce an entirely _different_ cure and remove the Council’s greatest weapon!’ 

Hermione met her daughter’s gaze. ‘And save him.’ 

‘ _Yes_.’ Rose tightened her jaw. ‘I can care about both things, you know.’ 

Selena slunk back towards the door. ‘I’ll come back later -’ 

Hermione sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘No, I’m sorry, Selena. You two talk. Because at this rate, I don’t think there’ll _be_ a later.’ 

Selena’s nose wrinkled. ‘Ominous.’ 

‘I mean because she’ll be in Canada. But this conversation _isn_ _’t_ over.’ Hermione managed a smile for their visitor. ‘Lovely to see you, as always, Selena,’ she said, and then left for the stairs. 

Rose let out a slow breath. ‘Sorry about that. She’s - she worries.’ 

‘I can’t imagine why,’ Selena drawled. ‘You’re leaving?’ 

‘Scorpius has found us a lead. There’s a magical settlement on Baffin Island called Helluby, right at the north, and he thinks that Cassian Malfoy went missing looking for Ultima Thule near there.’ Rose winced. ‘If by “near” you accept “about a hundred miles further north across icy wasteland”.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena. ‘Somewhere easy.’ 

‘Yeah. I don’t know what - are you okay?’ Rose flapped her towards a sofa, expression creasing with concern now she’d caught up on this arrival out of the blue at ten at night. 

Anxiety about Matt seemed both childish and inappropriate right now. ‘Of course. Matt mentioned you two were getting a Portkey. I wanted to be nosy.’ 

It was a shoddy lie, and she saw it bounce. ‘We were going through my mother for the Portkey. The result was that argument. What’s _wrong_?’ 

Selena cringed. ‘First things first: If you don’t want to talk about this, tell me to bugger off.’ 

‘Oh, it’s about Matt.’ To Selena’s astonishment, Rose _beamed_. ‘Do you want wine?’ 

‘I - um - yes?’ Selena watched with bewilderment as her best friend flew around the kitchen and emerged with a bottle and two glasses. ‘Why are you so _happy_ about this?’ 

‘I’m not happy there’s trouble!’ Rose poured them both glasses in a peremptory manner. ‘I’m happy you can come to me with this.’ 

_That_ _’s not the most fucked up thing I’ve heard_ , Selena conceded, and drank wine. ‘We had a date tonight.’ 

‘I’m assuming you didn’t come to gush at me about how well it went.’ 

‘It _did_ go well. We went out for dinner. We talked. About anything _other_ than the world ending. It was nice, we’ve not really caught up on all the silly little stuff. But then we were back at mine, and he…’ Talking to Rose about her very-recent-ex and how she was trying to seduce him needed a little more wine to press on with. The idea had sounded more palatable in theory than in practice, even if Rose seemed _happy_ with it. ‘He choked up on the goodnight kiss.’ 

Rose took a slow, deliberate drink of wine, and Selena suspected she was being lived through vicariously. ‘What _sort_ of choked up?’ 

‘I don’t - would you stop being so happy about this conversation, it’s weirding me out!’ 

‘I’m not happy there’s a problem!’ 

‘You’re just happy I’m coming to you with it!’ 

‘I am! I’m sorry!’ Rose put down her wine glass. ‘No, wait, I’m not sorry! I’m happy for you and I’m happy things are normal and I just want to _help_! I don’t care if it’s weird! Everything’s weird!’ 

‘Truer words have never been spoken. Everything _is_ weird,’ Selena muttered, and drank wine. ‘I had to kiss _him_. And he seemed keen, at first, but then he got spooked _really_ quickly and ran off.’ 

‘Hm.’ Rose drank her wine. ‘I guess it’s maybe a little weird for him?’ 

‘Perhaps. It’s one thing to say, “let’s be together,” or even, “let’s go for dinner.” Different entirely to then _do_ it. Maybe he’s panicking. Maybe it’s that he’s now actually _here_ , in this relationship, and he doesn’t want to -’ 

‘ _Or_ it’s just a little awkward and he needs some time to process the reality. That doesn’t mean he’s going to run a mile.’ 

‘Maybe, but what do I _do_?’ 

Rose looked far too smug when she said, ‘Talk to him.’ 

Selena sighed. ‘Oh. _That_.’ 

‘Sorry. You know it’s the solution. A frank and honest and healthy conversation.’ 

‘ _Yeah_.’ Knowing she was right, Selena gave Rose a nasty look. ‘How does that work out with you and Scorpius?’ 

She was rewarded with a flinch from Rose and a flash of burning guilt in her gut. ‘We don’t try it. It’s… more than a little bizarre. We don’t really pretend we _don_ _’t_ have feelings for each other, but we don’t talk about it or act on it. And he’s said some things…’ 

‘Things?’ 

Rose sighed. ‘I know what he’s thinking. He’s not going to want to go near a relationship because he’s convinced he’s going to die. And he’s not going to want to hurt me by me… losing him again, but he _also_ doesn’t want to make it harder - harder for him to die.’ She stared at the wall for a moment before slugging back her wine. ‘But he’s still said things. About not wanting to go, clutching to the woman he loves, wishing he had more time.’ 

Selena reached for the wine bottle to top both glasses up. ‘So he’s not just shielding you by keeping his distance. He’s shielding himself. Does he not think you can save him?’ 

‘He doesn’t dare hope.’ 

_This went well_ , Selena thought, watching Rose bow her head. _Good evasion of your own petty issues, reminding her she may lose him all over again_. ‘And he thinks nothing of the fact that you’d rather make the most of the time you’ve got left, whatever happens?’ 

‘I didn’t say -’ 

‘You didn’t have to; it’s what _I_ _’d_ want.’ Selena squeezed her arm. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dredged this up.’ 

‘That would suggest I’ve buried it. Like hell have I buried it.’ Rose sipped wine. ‘I’m going to save him.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘And then I’m going to snog his stupid face off.’ 

‘I know that, too.’ 

‘That’ll be my reward for breaking the laws of reality.’ 

They clinked glasses. ‘Good reward,’ said Selena. ‘Break the rules. Save the world. Get the boy.’

* * 

‘I’ve been dodging summer for the last year.’ Albus shrugged out of his jacket as they emerged from the alleyway into the beaming bright sunshine of Johannesburg. ‘I’m going to melt.’ 

Eva kept her long-sleeved jacket on because she had a sword-hilt to hide. ‘This isn’t much warmer than Algiers this time of year. And it’s technically _winter_ there.’ 

‘Was that a brag?’ He sounded amused as he followed her down the pavement, into the bustling hum of a foreign city with its foreign voices and different sounds, sights, smells. She ignored them. She had a map, they had a destination, and they had a job to do. She’d not been to Johannesburg before, but she knew South Africa, had worked in Cape Town, the centre of magical government which they had Portkeyed into and out of in their trip. This was no tourism venture. 

‘A statement of fact. Why did you dodge summer?’ 

‘Not intentionally.’ Albus shrugged and fell into step beside her, and she tried to not watch how his shoulders moved under the t-shirt. ‘But I spent autumn in eastern Europe and summer in Indonesia, which wasn’t _cold_ but it was _wet_. And I suppose it wasn’t summer there.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Travelling a lot gets confusing.’ 

He’d been talking more than usual through the whole journey, which had only been three hours of customs and processing since they’d arrived at the Ministry in London, waiting to cross the whole world. She suspected it was nerves, but she wasn’t about to set him at ease. At least if he was on-edge, they were more likely to spot trouble. 

‘Only if you care about tourism. We’re not here to enjoy the sun. Or to see the sights. We find Gregory Goyle and we drag him by the throat back to England.’ 

‘Or follow where he leads, if he knows where Draco Malfoy is.’ 

‘Well, _yes_.’ Eva scowled, and Albus fell quiet. 

Their Portkey from Cape Town had taken them to the heart of Johannesburg, a city whose magical communities were scattered into small housing estates and discreet businesses, and so to get the magical hotel where Gregory Goyle was apparently staying took a short walk. She could see Albus’ gaze drifting upward, soaking up the tall towers of the business district, a mesh of older Art Nouveau architecture and modern concrete monstrosities. He was enjoying the new experience, and that just irritated her more. The loud voice in her head called it unprofessional; they were in a potentially hostile environment and all the cities in the world were the same. She saw little of Johannesburg she hadn’t seen elsewhere: people, the rich and the poor, the magical and the not, all scrabbling against one another to eke out an existence that wasn’t totally miserable, and she cared not one jot for any of them. 

The quieter voice in her head pointed out that she was sulking. It was a childish word to apply to the sense of betrayal, but time, guilt about Candlestone, and Scorpius’ words reminded her that Albus was no Prometheus Thane. If she was going to nurse her hurt and her suspicion, then the smart thing to do was to run, to stop working with him, to shield herself like she’d protected herself her whole life. But she wasn’t running, and so she had to accept that, despite it all, she didn’t _want_ to. Which meant her pain wasn’t insurmountable, which meant Scorpius was right, and which meant that the sensible thing to do was to give Albus a chance. 

Despite this, she wasn’t done being hurt, which was why she called it a sulk. That, and she didn’t know what a ‘chance’ meant or could lead to, which was a much bigger problem and so it was easier to dismiss all of this as childish petulance. 

‘Hey.’ His hand came to her arm, and of _course_ she didn’t want to shy away, of _course_ there was a surge in her gut at the physical contact. ‘22 Diagonal Street is that way.’ That was their destination, the magical skyscraper hidden from Muggle view, and Goyle’s hotel was an entire floor of it. She’d been so caught up in being irritated by her own feelings that she’d missed a turning. 

Eva glared at his hand until he removed it with a look of genuine hurt and guilt. ‘Then let’s _go_ that way,’ she said, as if she hadn’t missed the turn, as if he’d pointed out the obvious. 

Intellectually, she had to appreciate the hard work that had gone into hiding 22 Diagonal Street, the magical counterpart of the tall, reflective Muggle building 11 Diagonal Street. A wizard looked at the magical skyscraper and saw a huge, shimmering building full of wizarding business and housing. A Muggle looked and saw a long, bustling road full of people and cars which they just happened to never need to go down or pay attention to. 

‘Sort of like Diagon Alley for Johannesburg,’ said Albus as they waked into the lobby, looking upwards at the bright spire of metal pillars, walkways winding up, lifts shooting back and forth like the life-blood of the building. ‘I wonder if the naming’s intentional.’ 

‘This may shock you,’ said Eva wryly, ‘but not everything has to do with Europeans.’ 

He blinked. ‘I didn’t say that -’ 

‘Johannesburg might be the biggest city in South Africa, but Cape Town is the magical capital because it’s the _oldest_. It was the centre of magic in the region even before European explorers got here.’ 

Albus lifted his hands. ‘Comment withdrawn.’ 

Keeping him on the back foot, eager to avoid offence and quick to issue apology, gave her some illusion of control, though she knew it wouldn’t last. She also knew she could push it too far, so she stayed silent as they took the lift upward, and prayed that Gregory Goyle’s account history wasn’t a false lead. 

But Albus wasn’t silent, clearing his throat after six floors. ‘The soonest we can get a Portkey back to England is tomorrow, if we’re lucky,’ he said. ‘I thought we could maybe look round Cape Town tonight.’ 

Her throat tightened. ‘I’ve been to Cape Town before.’ 

‘Then you can show _me_ Cape Town. So dinner’s on me.’ 

Eva chanced him a look, and her gut twisted when she found his eyes locked on her, cool, calm, collected. Somehow he’d banished his nerves, which she suspected had taken the journey so far to achieve, but that didn’t make his measured demeanour any less disconcerting. ‘We might have Goyle with us in shackles.’ 

‘We might not.’ 

She wasn’t sure which was more scary - that he was as bad a person as she feared, and he was inviting her to be used and discarded, or that he was as good a person as she feared, and he was inviting her to dip her toe into a pool of happiness that she’d never see again once the war was over. But as she met his gaze, Eva remembered she had a really hard time refusing Al Potter anything. She swallowed, mouth dry all of a sudden. ‘We’ll see.’ 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one of those tiny, pleased expressions which seemed all the more genuine on his honest face for his subtlety, but then the lift dinged and they were at their floor. 

The Rissik Hotel occupied a whole floor of 22 Diamond Street, the most upmarket wizarding accommodation in the whole city. It was punctuated by a hotel bar that spilt out onto a broad, sunlit balcony of fine dining and good drinks. It was there they headed, ignoring the glances of staff, ignoring the fact that comfortable clothes for travel that wouldn’t see them stand out in Muggle society were at odds with the crowds of the well-dressed and the occasional robe-wearing. When Albus diverted for a table near the edge, old habits made Eva move to meld with the crowd, detach from him with a clear line of sight so she could be the unexpected reinforcements, shadowing and protecting. So she went to the railing a few feet away as he helped himself to a chair opposite a rotund, middle-aged wizard, sunning himself with a cold drink. 

‘Mister Goyle?’ 

Gregory Goyle looked up - then his moustache bristled so wildly at the sight of Albus that Eva wondered if it would break off his face entirely. _Of_ course _he recognises Albus._ ‘I, uh, what do you want?’ 

Eva leaned against the railing and kept her hand on her wand. Albus’ expression didn’t change from a polite, friendly expression. ‘Just to talk, Mister Goyle. I see you recognise me.’ 

‘You’re the Potter boy.’ Goyle’s broad face furrowed. ‘He’s not here, is he?’ 

‘My father has a great deal of interest in the affairs of the Council and those affiliated with it,’ was all Albus said. ‘I hear you might be able to help me with that.’ 

Eva tried to not wince. _Crude. Too much, too soon._   
  
‘The _Council_?’ Goyle sputtered. ‘I have _nothing_ to do with the Council.’ 

‘And yet you’re here, in South Africa, when magical communities in Durban have been repeatedly attacked by the Council’s Inferi.’ 

‘We’re not _in_ Durban.’ 

‘We’re not in a city where your company has any interests, either.’ Albus lifted a hand. ‘But if you say you’ve got nothing to do with Lethe-related activities, I believe you.’ 

Goyle’s meaty hands were clutching the edge of the table. ‘What do you _want_ , Potter?’ 

‘I think you know why I’m here. I’m looking for Draco Malfoy.’ 

‘I’m not him.’ 

‘No.’ Albus leaned forwards. ‘But you’ve been paid by him, and paid a lot.’ 

‘That’s not a crime.’ 

‘Withholding information about the location of a wanted fugitive _is_.’ 

‘Who says I’m withholding anything?’ 

‘You’re right.’ Albus opened his hands with a thin smile. ‘You can’t be withholding information if nobody’s asked you for it. But Draco Malfoy is wanted by the IMC as an affiliate of the Council of Thorns. Do you know where he is?’ 

Once, Eva had thought Albus made people cooperate by being so nice to them that they didn’t dare refuse. Now, he had the same easy manner, the same friendly cheer, but there was a rod of iron running through it, like calm waters threatening a vicious undercurrent. Now, the urge to cooperate would come not through a desire to please this amiable, happy man, but through fear of what lay underneath the smiling face. And even she didn’t know where the masks ended and his true nature began. 

Gregory Goyle sat up. ‘I’ve known Draco Malfoy my whole life. And last I checked, you _didn_ _’t_ have formal authority to interrogate me. Even if you _did_ , demands across a café table isn’t a legal bloody investigation. I’ve no reason to tell you anything.’ 

Al’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m a contractor for the DMLE. I _do_ have the authority to investigate Draco Malfoy’s disappearance.’ 

Goyle gave a big shrug, robes straining over his hefty shoulders. ‘Doesn’t really matter. Can’t help you, Potter. Sorry.’ 

Then Eva was stood behind him, a hand at his back, wand-tip resting against his neck. ‘We’re not just going to take your word for it and walk away, Goyle.’ Her voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, because she knew men always found it disconcerting when she threatened them like that. ‘So you can tell us what you know here, and so we have more important things to do than cart your meaty shape all over the world. _Or_ we have no leads, and so the best thing we can do is drag you off for some Legilimency. Who knows what secrets might fall out?’ 

She felt him tense under her hand, and her gaze flickered to Albus with an instinct that sickened her in the gut. She’d done this a hundred times before, only it was Thane she then looked to for confirmation, for approval. _Did I do it right? Did I scare them for you properly? Can you give your brainwashed child of murder a scrap of desperately-craved affection?_   
  
But before Albus could meet her gaze, there was the thundering of footsteps from the doorway, a crowd of armed wizards bursting onto the balcony, flashing wands and bellowing orders. It took a heartbeat for Eva to notice the badges on their shoulders, to pay attention to their actual words, which was why she didn’t blast them the moment she saw them. 

A dark-skinned woman with a Warrant Officer’s rank stripes, taller than even Eva, took the lead. ‘Nobody move!’ she called in a voice that was as polite as it was firm. ‘Crime Bureau business. Everyone keep your hands where we can see them.’ They started across the balcony directly for Gregory Goyle. 

Albus burst to his feet, jaw tight. ‘We’re agents of British Magical Law Enforcement,’ he told the South African Enforcers as they swarmed over Goyle, searching him, disarming him, cuffing him. ‘We need to talk to this man for our own investigations.’ 

The Warrant Officer looked at Albus, expression flat. ‘And who’re you?’ 

‘Albus Potter,’ he said, like he for once wanted to use his name to have an impact. ‘And _you_?’ 

Eva tried to not sigh as she saw how little the woman cared about the Potter name on the far side of the world. ‘Warrant Officer Pretorius,’ she said. ‘And if you wanted to conduct an investigation on South African soil, you should have talked to us first. This man is under arrest for association with Council Lethe smugglers, so _we_ definitely need to talk to him for _our_ investigations. Back in Cape Town.’ 

‘He’s a British citizen, we have a right to -’ 

‘Under IMC law, you have no rights here if he’s suspected of association with the Council,’ Pretorius interrupted. ‘So the second best thing you can do is come to Cape Town and _petition_ my superiors in the Magical Crime Bureau to grant you access.’ 

Eva moved to Albus’ side; she knew a tone that would brook no opposition when she heard it. ‘What’s the best thing we can do, Warrant?’ 

Pretorius seemed to approve of the calm, polite tone. ‘Let me arrest this bastard. And stay the hell out of my way.’ 


	33. The Thorns Were There

The South African Department of Magic reminded Albus of the Ministry. It was nestled in the hillocks near Cape Town, burrowing deep underground and stretching across perhaps twenty floors of administrative business. With a nation larger than Britain, and with a lot of business of the southern continent falling to South Africa with its older and more sophisticated magical infrastructure, it needed more space. 

That this was a country seeing regular strikes from the Council of Thorns didn’t help. They’d followed the Enforcers immediately from Johannesburg to Cape Town, but it had still taken them two hours of processing their paperwork - especially Eva’s paperwork - before they were allowed to the wing of the Magical Crime Bureau, one of the lowest floors in the bunker. It was quieter than he’d expected, Enforcers shutting themselves away in offices and interrogation rooms, and when they moved into the main lobby it was to see familiar faces he had absolutely not expected. 

‘Potter!’ 

‘Professor?’ 

But Nat Lockett wasn’t alone as she approached with a tired smile, for at her side was the tall, immaculate shape of Astoria Malfoy. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’ 

‘I was going to say the same to you both,’ said Albus. ‘But I suppose with the Lethe strikes I shouldn’t be surprised. Is it a quiet day?’ 

‘The opposite,’ said Lockett. ‘Incursion in the magic district in Durban - and Durban’s the biggest magical residential area in the country. That’s where most of the Enforcers have trotted off to. We’re on standby for once the immediate danger’s over.’ 

Albus gave Astoria a small smile. ‘I’m glad your relief group’s getting this far out.’ 

Scorpius’ mother nodded. ‘With North America more or less contained, what can I do except lend our infrastructure and support across the world?’ Her eyes then drifted to Eva, who was hanging half a step back with a neutral expression. ‘I see I’m not the only one extending my expertise.’ 

Eva bobbed her head curtly, professionally. ‘Professor. Ma’am.’ 

‘Oh, my.’ Astoria’s lips curled. ‘Isn’t there hope for us all if the likes of you can work your way into the IMC’s good books?’ 

‘I’m in no books, ma’am,’ said Eva. ‘I’m just trying to help.’ 

‘And so humble.’ 

Lockett gave her companion a pained look. Albus didn’t want to think too hard about how it would have been, Nat Lockett the eternal supporter of Scorpius, working alongside his mother. But there was a judicious, diplomatic silence until Lockett’s eyes found Al again. ‘What brings you down here? Or did you just decide you’d jump into the nearest trouble?’ 

‘If I wanted _nearest_ , I’d be in Greece,’ he pointed out. ‘We’re here looking for Draco Malfoy.’ 

Astoria winced. ‘Well, he’s not _here_. Because if we’re within a hundred miles of each other, he appears to try to control every aspect of my life, and it’s been quiet. Except for the brutal deaths and oppression.’ 

Albus caught Lockett’s long-suffering expression. ‘We believe Gregory Goyle might know something about his whereabouts.’ 

Astoria’s sickened expression deepened. ‘ _Gregory_ _’s_ here? Maybe he _is_ stalking me. Oh, Merlin, Nathalie, you better fend him off.’ 

_So they_ _’re on first name terms. Or, Astoria is._ ‘I don’t know,’ Albus admitted. ‘The Enforcers brought him in; he might have something to do with the Lethe smuggling. We’re hoping they’ll give us five minutes in a room with him.’ 

‘Good news,’ drawled Lockett. ‘Rourke’s policies mean you can Legilimens the information out of him with impunity.’ 

‘That does actually help,’ Eva pointed out. 

‘Do they know you’re here and want to see him?’ said Astoria. 

‘They do. If they _care_ is something else. I don’t doubt their interrogations come first, especially if it’s about Lethe smuggling -’ 

‘Oh, anyone who’s still _here_ and hasn’t been deployed to Durban’s the dregs of the Bureau anyway,’ said Astoria, waving a dismissive hand. ‘So you’ll be waiting a while. As will we, as I imagine it’ll be _hours_ before Durban is secured enough that they need us.’ 

‘Aren’t you on the response teams?’ said Eva. 

‘There are degrees of response teams. There’s the people who go to kill the Inferi and the Council. Then there’s the ones who go to save people while also being able to professionally defend themselves. We’ll be _third_ wave.’ Astoria clapped her hands together. ‘In the meantime, there’s a tolerable little cantine on the tenth floor.’ 

‘Their coffee’s shit,’ said Lockett. ‘But it’s somewhere to wait.’ 

‘As you can see, we’ve had a little time to get _familiar_ with the pleasantries of South Africa,’ said Astoria. 

Albus’ expression sank as he looked between them. ‘How long _have_ you been out here?’ 

‘Seven days?’ Lockett glanced at Astoria. ‘Eight?’ 

_Scorpius was in Niemandhorn then. They don_ _’t know._ The odds of Scorpius telling someone the delicate news of his pending mortality by Floo or letter were long enough that Albus didn’t even think of betting. He drew a sharp breath. ‘I should - we should -’ 

‘Get coffee,’ said Eva bluntly, and he felt her elbow in his ribs. He glanced down at her, and despite all his efforts he could see the message in her gaze, plain as day. _Not here. Not now._   
  
‘I don’t -’ 

He didn’t know if he was going to listen to her or not, but then he was saved from having to make the decision by sheer catastrophe as they were plunged into darkness. The bright, magic-electric lights overhead - Cape Town was rather less old-fashioned than London in its approach to modern facilities - flickered and died, and only after a few, confused heartbeats did sconces along the wall break into life of a gentle, dim, orange glow. 

‘Uh oh,’ said Lockett, immediately before there was a pulsing wail from speakers set into the wall. 

‘ _Attention, all personnel. Security lockdown in process. Remain at your stations and await further instructions. Attention, all personnel_ _…_ ’ And on the voice droned, breaking into other languages, all in the same level, emotionless tone despite the dire circumstances. 

‘This isn’t a drill,’ said Eva, already holding her wand, hand on the sword-hilt. 

‘They don’t do drills in a time of national crisis,’ Lockett confirmed. ‘At least we’re in the Crimes Bureau, it’s going to be the securest place -’ 

‘And one of the _deepest_ , furthest away from an exit,’ Albus pointed out, looking to the doors with the hope of seeing more of the Enforcers of the Bureau responding, reinforcing. 

Then the overhead speakers crackled to interrupt the droning voice, and a new one came in - level, calm, superior and, to Albus’ surprise, familiar. 

‘ _Employees of the South African Department of Magic,_ ’ came the voice of Erik Geiger, strong right hand to Colonel Raskoph. ‘ _If you cooperate, you do not need to be hurt. This government and country is now under the control of the Council of Thorns._ ’

* * 

‘The Portkey’s been moved up,’ said Rose as she entered the transportation chamber booked for her and Scorpius. ‘We’ll be gone in a few minutes.’ 

‘Let me guess,’ Scorpius muttered, pressing his portable wireless to his ear. ‘We can be shunted up because public Portkeys to the southern regions of Africa are now at an abrupt halt?’ 

She sighed and slumped onto the bench next to him, back to the bare stone walls of the room whose only notable feature was the permanently enchanted Portkey ring sat on a plinth in the middle. News of disaster in Cape Town had trickled in over the last two hours. Details were unclear, but the big picture was plain: the Council were hitting the South African centres of government. ‘I’m sorry. I know it sucks to have to wait. At least Al and Saida should be in Johannesburg.’ 

‘Which will still be attacked eventually, if it hasn’t already, and either way that leaves them stranded in a country under Council control. They’re completely cut off. And even if they were _fine_ , it’s not just them, is it?’ He fiddled with the tuning on the wireless, signal not great this close to the magical interference of the Portkeys. ‘Mum’s relief team should be in Durban. So Professor Lockett’s there, too. We shouldn’t be going to _Canada_ -’ 

‘What else are we going to do? Charge to South Africa? The IMC will dispatch _everyone_ they can to get people out.’ 

‘We’ve done things on our own before -’ 

‘With _reason_ and with a _lead_ ,’ Rose said. ‘I understand, Scorp.’ 

‘It’s _Albus_ ,’ he snapped, jerking to his feet. 

‘And he’s, what, nothing to me?’ She stood, too, and for the first time her frustration at him wasn’t tinged by guilt. ‘I spent the last _two years_ worrying about him, not knowing if he was alive or dead, and the _only_ comfort I had was that I figured whoever killed Harry Potter’s son would use their _bragging rights_!’ 

That stunned him into silence, and his gaze dropped. ‘He was supposed to be safe,’ Scorpius mumbled after a moment. ‘They all were.’ 

‘I understand,’ said Rose, dropping her voice, and without thinking she reached for his hand. ‘We’re getting nothing out of Macedonia or Greece, either, nothing about Dad or Harry. But the Council would rush to tell us if they got them. No news is good news.’ 

‘I didn’t think…’ He looked over at her hand on his, his fingers curling around hers seemingly by instinct. ‘Of course you’re worried about your dad. That was dickish of me.’ 

‘You’re worried about your mum. And Lockett. It’s okay. But the best thing we can do for them, for the world, is chase this lead. We might find something huge.’ 

‘And we might _not_.’ The corners of his eyes creased as he met her gaze. ‘We might find nothing. We might just find a ghost and a story a hundred years old.’ 

‘Maybe,’ she agreed, and then there was a chime from her pocket as her watch jingled its alarm. ‘And now’s the time to turn back if you think it’s a waste. But _I_ _’m_ going.’ She pulled away from him and hefted her bag, that trusty old rucksack that had travelled the world with her once before. Rose wasn’t sure if she was forcing his hand or being practical, and couldn’t feel guilty either way. 

‘I didn’t say I wasn’t going,’ said Scorpius quickly. 

‘Then stop,’ she said, padding to the central plinth, ‘being so fatalistic. Hope won’t burn you, Scorpius.’ 

_But it might_ , she thought as she put her hand on the Portkey, and watched him hesitate only a heartbeat before he joined her, _burn me._   
  
Then the Portkey flared to life as it was scheduled to do, the world spun and twisted before and around her, and alongside the gut-churning sense of being stretched and catapulted across the globe came the biting, searing cold of their destination. 

_Not burn. Freeze._   
  
Darkness swirled into shapes of a clear, bright night-sky, of low, wooden houses stretching across a waterfront of the dark, icy sea. Snow and ice crunched underfoot as she staggered, a white canopy settled over walkways and rooftops and even patches of the ocean. Between them and the seas twinkled the lights of the settlement, warm orange glows from windows; on the other side, barren ice and howling winds reigned. 

She managed to not grab Scorpius to steady herself, because if they slipped this would be a ridiculous drama. ‘Helluby,’ she explained, once the icy cold returned the breath it stole from her. ‘Settled by Viking wizards a thousand years ago. But long since integrated with the locals who taught them, well, how to not immediately die out here.’ Explaining felt easier, for some reason; it gave her something to focus on while she rebalanced her body and her mind. 

Scorpius was staring up at the peerless dark sky, squinting. ‘They shouldn’t be more than, what, six hours behind us - why’s it so dark?’ 

‘This is north of the Arctic Circle in winter,’ said Rose, and was grateful for her dragonhide trousers and reinforced jacket. ‘I think it might get a little lighter towards midday. But this is it for months.’ 

‘Huh.’ His mouth was hanging a little open as he gawped at the sky, at the tidy comfort of coastal Helluby. The biting wind wasn’t that cold after the initial shock of the temperature drop, and so she could focus on the glimmering stars reflecting so brightly off the icy waters it looked like some of them had fallen. For the first time since he’d returned, the faint knot of tension was completely gone from his brow, and so she didn’t say anything, didn’t dare break the spell of the moment. If the world could still astonish him with its beauties, she was not one to interrupt. 

But after a moment he had to feel how her eyes were on him, not the view, and he dropped his gaze with that faint frown returning. ‘We should get ourselves transport. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.’ 

‘I did some prep-work,’ said Rose after a heartbeat. ‘There’s a place which hires out proper sleighs, drawn by Ice Elks.’ 

‘What,’ said Scorpius, setting off to crunch down the path towards Helluby, ‘is an Ice Elk?’ 

‘That’s an excellent question.’ 

They would find out within ten minutes. Helluby wasn’t large, a tidy arrangement of dark wooden buildings and walkways, the cold smell of salt and fish hanging in the air like the village’s mission statement. They got the odd glance from locals, so clearly were they tourists, but their presence seemed unsurprising - not even in this sleepy town at the roof of the world. 

It was at the far side of the magical fishing village that they found their destination, a gleaming dark house with a paddock beyond in which milled the shadows that Rose figured _had_ to be Ice Elks. They were bigger than she thought an elk would be, but she was no expert. Snow white were their hides, and gleaming and glinting as if every hair was a delicate strand of frost. When one lifted its head, starlight kaleidoscoped through the horns, like they were carved of living, shimmering ice. 

‘Can make eighty miles in a day, blizzard or calm,’ said the man who introduced himself as Jorgen, the barrel-chested owner of the sleigh rental when they’d huddled inside and made their enquiries. ‘You rent one of my sleighs, you’ll get a gang of six drawing them. They start going where you tell ‘em to go, and they won’t stop. All day. All night. One pack of their supplies a day keeps ‘em going. Bred special for this, they are.’ 

Rose was too pleased to be inside the warmth of the thick wooden walls, darkness cast a gentle orange by the roaring fire, to question what the creatures _were_. ‘And the sleighs?’ 

‘Magically enlarged interior,’ bragged Jorgen, and slapped a glossy pamphlet on the counter. ‘Small sleigh on the outside, comfortable bunkroom on the inside. You don’t need to go topside except to steer and feed ‘em. Stock up on food and drink and you’ll get to your destination in warmth and in style.’ 

She looked at Scorpius, who shrugged. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he said. ‘I like warmth, I like style. I like these low-maintenance Ice Elks.’ 

‘Of course you do,’ boomed Jorgen. ‘How far you kids going?’ He looked between them, bushy eyebrows raising. ‘Got a cabin on the roof of the world? Romantic little getaway with the lights?’ 

‘Something like that,’ said Rose. ‘It’s less than a hundred miles away, so we shouldn’t need more than…’ She frowned. ‘I was going to say two nights, but that’s harder at this time of year.’ 

‘Seventy-two hours? Ninety-six? You pay up front, either way, and I slap on a charge if you go over.’ 

‘Let’s say ninety-six,’ said Rose. ‘Just to be sure.’ 

‘I’ll pay,’ said Scorpius, and fished out his newfangled Gringott’s chequebook. ‘If you take this.’ 

‘Son, if it ends in money, I take it,’ said Jorgen, and his eyes glimmered once he was clutching the slip of paper. He looked it over as if he could make galleons burst from it by staring alone, then gave a gruff nod. ‘Alright. They’ve been on a run, so they need a rest before they can go out again. Come back same time tomorrow, you’ll have your sleigh, and your Ice Elks.’ He looked between them. ‘Go to Tapeesa’s, on the waterfront. Best hotel in town. On top of the fish restaurant run by her husband Malik. You kids can’t come to Helluby and _not_ eat Helluby fish.’ 

_Oh, good,_ thought Rose. _Enchanting meals with Scorpius in a land of eternal starlight. What could go wrong?_

* * 

‘Believe it or not, this is one of the oldest buildings of English wizardry,’ said Matt, almost bouncing as they walked the long stone hall whose walls echoed their footsteps along with the whispers of centuries past. ‘This is where the _first_ Wizard’s Council of the whole of the Isles gathered, to unite the different kingdoms against the encroaching Viking threat.’ 

Selena watched him, unsure if she found his enthusiasm endearing or if she wanted to hex him so he stopped evading. ‘How’s that the _oldest_?’ she asked instead, smug that for once she could poke holes in his intellectualism. ‘That’s only, what, fifteen hundred years ago?’ 

‘Less,’ said Matt, beaming. ‘But, you see, the key word there is _English_ \- though of course, that term didn’t really _exist_ until the thirteenth century or -’ 

‘Skip to the end.’ 

He wilted, and gestured across Winton Hall. ‘Obviously there were wizards amongst the Celts; records of druidic practises make that clear. And Roman wizards, during the occupation and later. But most of those traditions have faded or become thoroughly integrated into the era of Camelot. Then _Camelot_ fell, and its traditions with it.’ 

‘This is sounding suspiciously like the middle.’ 

‘Anything you can think about modern British wizardry either originated in Hogwarts or it originated _here_.’ Matt pointed at the aged paving stones, their patterns worn by a million magic boots into pale reminiscence. ‘The structure of English magical government was born in _this hall_. The Wizard’s Council is the _direct_ precursor to the Wizengamot. The _name_ of the Wizengamot comes from “Witenagemot,” which was the assembly of the Muggle ruling class around the same time. Assemblies of the great magical minds were held here until the move to Westminster in the thirteenth century -’ 

‘Okay, I’ve got to admit I didn’t know any of that. But we’re here for a reason, Matt. The book.’ _Are you babbling so I can_ _’t start a Proper Conversation?_   
  
‘Oh, yes.’ He snapped the fingers of his good hand, turned on his heel, and started for the far end of the hall. ‘It’s in the underground chambers.’ 

‘Of course it is,’ Selena sighed, and followed. 

Although the main body of Winton Hall was open to the wizarding public, a site of national heritage or some other phrase Matt had used that made Selena roll her eyes, it was quiet today. While the international crisis of the Council of Thorns did not have Britain completely panicked, it was tense enough that casual tourism to a site of historical fascination was on nobody’s priority list. 

They passed a father and his daughter, too young for Hogwarts, stood at a wall display showing a venerable old wizard - _‘John the Old Saxon, Alfred the Great’s magical adviser,_ ’ hissed Matt - and a stringy youth who lounged against the wall and looked like he was ducking out of the rain. But it was to the back of this ancient hall, nestled in the centre of Winchester and yet hidden from all Muggle sight, that he led them, and to a doorway at the top of a flight of stairs winding into cold, stony darkness. 

Matt exchanged quick words with a bored-looking guard who waved them through, and Selena was reminded more and more of the chambers nestled underneath the Convento de Cristo in Tomar, where they had found Reynald de Sablé two years ago. But that had been in a Portuguese summer, not a dying English autumn, and she was not expecting anything so exciting. 

She was not wrong. The chambers underneath Winton Hall were cold, draughty, and dark, and while Matt waved his wand to bring sconces to life and consulted papers he’d brought that guided him through the passages, all they saw were ancient books on ancient shelves, and a lot of dust. 

‘This is one of the greatest arrays of records of old English magical texts in the country,’ said Matt. ‘I would have loved to add this to my Book of Many Books, but I honestly think some of these papers are _so_ old that they wouldn’t be up to the magical connection.’ 

‘Uh huh. Do you know where the Black Book is?’ 

He seemed to pick up on her disinterested tone that time, and turned a corner. ‘This way. The secure room.’ 

The ‘secure room,’ turned out to be a room of shelves behind an unlocked door, which Selena supposed _was_ marginally more secure than the books _not_ behind an unlocked door. Shelves lined the wall to encircle them in the rounded chamber, a huge dais at the centre, angled to present any tome that they might want to study. 

Matt approached the plinth and rested his wand upon it. ‘The Black Book of Carmarthen,’ he commanded. A huge volume slid off a high shelf and shot through the air towards them. Its binding was a shimmering ebony, as promised, ancient blackened leather, and she saw Matt’s arm sag as he tried to ease it onto the plinth with just one hand. 

She was at his side in an instance, reaching for the other side of the book, and was rewarded by the dropping of his gaze, the squaring of his shoulders, and absolutely no thanks as he flipped the volume open. ‘This might take a while,’ he grunted. 

Selena stepped back as he started to drift through the inches-thick tome. ‘I’m research cheerleader, remember?’ But he didn’t answer that, so she meandered about the chamber, staring at the spines of ancient books. ‘Do you know what you’re looking for?’ 

‘Emrys. Dyfed. Records of the Chalice. Or anything like it.’ 

He kept his back to her, and while she could see his eyes roaming over the words splayed across the dusty pages of the Black Book, she recognised the apprehensive tension of his jaw. That came from her presence, she was sure of it. 

With a sigh, Selena pulled up a stool, and prepared to wait.

* * 

It was not in Eva’s instincts to feel reassured at a large gathering of law enforcers, even if the members of the Magical Crime Bureau stood armed and clumped around a table in their office were on her side. Light was still low, flickering from the emergency sconces instead of blazing from the tube-bulbs overhead, but there was no sign of Thornweavers. Yet. 

Warrant Officer Pretorius stood at the centre of the gathering, gesturing to the maps strewn across the table, but she straightened at the sight of the new arrivals. ‘Civilians are being gathered in the ward room,’ she said, pointing at a door. 

‘I’m not a civilian,’ Albus said again flatly, and gestured between him and Eva. ‘British MLE. What’s going on here?’ This did not feel like time to nitpick over his contract. 

‘ _I_ _’m_ a civilian,’ said Astoria, and grabbed Lockett’s elbow. ‘ _We_ can go huddle in a dim room, don’t you think?’ 

‘You should stay here, Professor,’ said Albus. ‘You’re a world-class expert on Lethe and Inferi, not to mention one of the few people in the world on our side who’s immune to the illness.’ 

Lockett drew a hissing breath and stood her ground against Astoria’s plaintive tug. ‘ _Great_.’ 

Pretorius was glaring at them. ‘Decided who’s staying yet? Good? Can we talk business now?’ 

_I like her_ , Eva thought as Astoria left, and approached the table. ‘What do we have?’ 

‘Most of our forces are out, dealing with the Inferius incursion in Durban. We suspect now that was a diversion so they could strike at government HQ.’ Pretorius stepped back so they could see the plans of South Africa’s Magic Department laid out. ‘We’re still piecing together exactly what happened, but it seems like ten minutes ago they burst through the top-end entrances with a dozen or so Inferi as shock troopers.’ 

‘Only a dozen?’ said Eva. 

‘This is a government building, not a fortress. The Inferi were followed by Thornweavers, who shut down the Floo, seized hostages and prisoners, and locked down the top-end entrances.’ 

‘Where are you getting this from?’ said Albus. 

‘Some people got away. They’ve gone the only way they could go: down, to us.’ Pretorius grimaced. ‘Which makes us rats in a barrel.’ 

‘I’m assuming all standard warding remains to prevent Apparition in or out of the building,’ said Eva, looking over the plans. The Department was twenty floors deep, and the only level further down than Magical Crimes was Judicial Affairs. 

‘Standard warding,’ Pretorius confirmed, ‘and some extra the Thornweavers are layering on to keep us contained. We’re underground; there is no physical way out except up through the floors to where they’re waiting. And the magical ways have been shut down.’ 

‘ _Employees of the South African Department of Magic_.’ That was Geiger’s voice yet again, droning through the speakers in the wall, and Eva tried to not flinch. She’d not known Geiger very well in her time with the Council, but she’d seen enough to have no shame in fearing him. ‘ _You may by now have realised that we have cut off all entrances and exits from the building. This does not need to be a problem. If you disarm yourselves and gather on level three for surrender to the Council of Thorns, we promise you will be unharmed. Submission is survival._   
  
_‘You have thirty minutes to cooperate. After that time, we will send our replenished forces of Inferi through the building, with instructions to kill anyone they find. There are no exits. You will be destroyed. Submission is survival.’_   
  
‘That’s a shit mantra,’ Albus muttered. 

‘But a sensible one,’ said Eva, and turned to Pretorius. ‘Why aren’t you surrendering? They want to _control_ the population, not kill them.’ 

‘They want to kill some of them,’ Pretorius said. ‘I’ve got a judge and a Division Head in the next room. I have no idea where the President is; I’d be shocked if they’ve not made a strike for his office on the fourth floor already. That’s Astoria Malfoy in the next room, a leading relief worker, and you yourself have identified Nathalie Lockett as a priority target. Not to mention the son of the Head of the British Aurors.’ She swept her hand around the gathering. ‘You’re not going to get to live in peace under the new South African government.’ 

‘Then we’d better think fast,’ said Albus, ‘or in about forty-five minutes we’re going to be knee-deep in angry killer corpses.’ 

‘I have nothing,’ said Pretorius, ‘except for an organised strike against the upper levels, keeping the civilians close behind so we can get them out the moment we punch a hole. But that’s a messy scheme.’ 

Eva’s eyes dragged over the plans. ‘What about International Transportation?’ she said, tapping level eleven on the map. ‘There’s got to be a Portkey there ready to go _somewhere_ , and that’ll bypass the wards.’ 

‘I’d be astonished,’ said Albus, ‘if they’ve not sent a team there to secure it.’ 

‘But they can’t have secured the _whole_ building right away.’ 

Pretorius nodded. ‘We send an armed unit up there.’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘You’ll be sending them in blind. Maybe they get the drop on the Thornweavers and can extract a Portkey. Maybe they just get _killed_.’ 

‘There _are_ no good options here.’ 

‘You need recon,’ said Albus, and Eva’s heart lunged into her throat as her gaze snapped on him. _Don_ _’t_ , she thought, just as he said, ‘And I have an Invisibility Cloak.’ 

Pretorius raised her eyebrows. ‘They’ll have enchantments to beat illusions -’ 

‘Not this one. _Trust_ me. I’ve fought these guys before, I’ve fought Geiger before.’ Albus’ jaw was set with a determined edge Eva wasn’t used to seeing. ‘If I can’t get out of there with a Portkey, I can get out of there with intel.’ 

Hesitation had fled Pretorius’ eyes. ‘Go,’ she said, in the firm voice of a leader who didn’t have enough options to quibble over the least bad choice. ‘We’ll continue to bring in the people on the lower levels. At worst, we can barricade in here against the Inferi.’ 

_That_ _’s a terrible ‘at worst,’_ Eva thought, but then Albus turned for the door and she was dragged in his wake with an instinct that came easier than breathing, following him towards the exit. ‘You can’t go out there alone,’ she found herself saying. 

He reached for his bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. ‘This won’t hide two.’ 

‘Then send _me_. I have more combat experience than you and I’m…’ _I_ _’m expendable._   
  
‘I’ve fought alone against long odds these last two years. I know what I’m doing.’ 

‘I know Thornweaver tactics and -’ 

‘Then use them _here_ ,’ said Albus, straightening and meeting her gaze. ‘You need to protect these people until they can get out alive. Prepare for Thornweaver strikes by turning all of your knowledge _against_ them. Defending a place like this _isn_ _’t_ in my expertise. And it’s my cloak.’ 

That was the definitive argument, really, even if it was the most petty. Eva’s jaw clenched as she looked up to find him as implacable as a storm, and she swallowed hard. ‘You have nothing to prove, you know.’ 

If her words didn’t bounce, he hid the impact well. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ said Albus, offering her the most fleeting hints of a smile, before turning for the door. 

Her hand shot out of its own accord to grab his elbow. She tried to look him in the eye but couldn’t; it was like he was too bright, too blinding in these last few seconds, and she had to stare at his shoulder as she said, the words like sandpaper on her tongue, ‘Be careful.’ 

He might have smiled or nodded; she wasn’t sure, because blood rushed in her ears and then he was gone, footsteps thudding out on the flagstones, tall and firm until he got to the lobby, swung the Cloak over his shoulders, and vanished from all sight. 

Eva stared at the point where he’d disappeared until her heartbeat was back to a controlled level, then turned back for the makeshift war room. Pretorius barely glanced at her, in the middle of dispatching her people across the nearby floors to bring in any hiding civilians so they could be better protected. 

_Not that anyone_ _’s going to be safe if they stay here_ , Eva didn’t say. 

Finally, Pretorius turned to her, expression set as her people hurried off into the bowels of the offices. ‘Alright, then, Enforcer. He says he can do it. What’s your speciality?’ 

‘I’m not an Enforcer.’ The charade felt ridiculous right now. 

‘Then how come you’re fighting Thornweavers?’ 

‘I used to be one.’ Eva leaned across the table, soaking in every detail of the plans, every stairwell, lift, entrance and exit. ‘My speciality is killing them.’

* * 

‘ _The Writings of Edwin Bamfle, Magical Thatcher_.’ Selena stared at the huge tome sat on the shelves above the doorway. ‘Magical thatching. That’s not a term for something else, right? This is literally the records of a sixth-century wizarding _roofer_. I think I would feed this book to my cat before I read it. And I don’t have a cat.’ 

There was, of course, no answer. They had been in the chamber under Winton Hall in two hours of insufferable near-silence, and it was starting to drive her batty. It took another five minutes before Matt finally made a sound of strangled success that made Selena worry he’d choked on dust. 

‘What? What?’ 

‘Look!’ He thudded his index finger on the parchment, looking over his shoulder at her with a gleaming smile of success. ‘ _Look_!’ 

_It_ _’s an illuminated manuscript, how important could it -_ But then she was by his side, and her breath caught in her throat. ‘That’s…’ 

‘The same Celtic stylings we found on the Chalice, the same Celtic knotwork and markings that were on the tomb in the Parisian catacombs, in Ager Sanguinis, which you said were on Cat Island.’ Matt _beamed_. ‘And it’s _here_ , in the Black Book!’ 

Selena leaned over. ‘Just around the edges of this page. What’s this section even _about_?’ 

‘It’s…’ He glanced down, and deflated. ‘It’s very Welsh.’ 

She stared at him. ‘How much of this book is in Welsh.’ 

‘A lot of it.’ 

‘And you don’t read Welsh. Especially not some medieval dialect of it.’ 

‘Or speak it, no.’ 

‘And yet you’ve been down here. For two hours. Browsing through a book you can’t _read_.’ 

Matt sputtered. ‘Not _all_ of it’s in Welsh. I’ve been reading the bits I _could_ read.’ 

She wanted to shake him. ‘Matt, why didn’t you get it _out_ of here and back to the warehouse and in the hands of one of our researchers who _can_ understand it? I didn’t come here to wait with you so you could _pretend_ to be useful!’ 

It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew that the moment the words were past her lips. He squared his shoulders, drawing his wounded arm in closer to himself, a new gesture of defensiveness she was just starting to identify. ‘What, so my work consists of saying “let’s go read that book,” and sending someone _else_ to go read it?’ 

She lifted a placating hand. ‘Matt, I’m just saying, you don’t need to do everything yourself -’ 

‘I need to do _something_ myself!’ he snapped. ‘Or what am I, but some one-handed _bureaucrat_!’ 

Selena clamped down on the rising tide of blunt honesty inside her. It would, for once, not help. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure what _would_ help if she didn’t force him to take the damned book back to the warehouse and deal with his insecurities later. 

_This is why I_ _’m the cheerleader to smart men_ , she thought wryly and not without bitterness, and so she was almost _pleased_ when the decision of how to handle this problem was taken out of her hands. 

She was less pleased that this came from a bolt of magic thudding into Matt from the entrance, sending him flying into the far set of shelves with a crash. He slumped and didn’t rise as she spun to find the stringy youth she’d thought was sheltering upstairs from the rain stood in the door. 

The Thornweaver waggled his wand at her, expressionless. ‘People still want words with you, Little Rourke.’ 


	34. Dash Against Mine Enemies

Several things were becoming clear to Eva. The first was that Pretorius, a mere Warrant Officer, was the highest ranked member of law enforcement they had. Everyone else had either been dispatched to Durban or rounded up by Geiger’s Thornweavers in the upper levels. The second was that plenty of minor staffers had been huddled in the bottom floors of the Department bunker, and they were starting to fill up the conference rooms at such a rate that Eva guessed they had two civilians for every trained combatant. 

The third was that Erik Geiger was eminently more prepared for this situation than they were. 

‘The longer we wait,’ said Eva to Pretorius across the planning table, ‘the deeper his people and the Inferi go.’ 

‘And if we move without anywhere to go, we’re marching civilians out of a defensible location and into the open.’ 

They met one another’s gaze, knowing the other was right, neither with a solution. Eva let out a slow breath. ‘Albus will get it done,’ she said, because faith was the only choice she had left. ‘He’ll punch us a way out or bring us a Portkey.’ 

‘He’d better, or we’re dead.’ 

‘Then plan for success.’ Eva drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Where’re all your prisoners? The people who were in cells when this went down?’ 

‘In with the other civilians. Wandless and with bound hands.’ Pretorius shook her head. ‘Most of them aren’t anything to do with the Council; those are in the central prison complex. I’m not leaving them trapped to die.’ 

Eva wanted to point out these people could be liabilities, dangers to the people they _really_ needed to save. Instead, she said, ‘Does that include Gregory Goyle?’ 

‘From Johannesburg this afternoon? Yes.’ 

‘Good. I’m going to want a word with him when this is over.’ 

Pretorius rolled her eyes. ‘If we get out of this, you can _have_ him for all I care.’ 

‘ _Members of the Magical Crime Bureau_ ,’ came Erik Geiger’s voice over the internal speaker system. ‘ _It has come to my attention that you are_ not _cooperating with the very reasonable deal I_ _’ve offered you._ ’ 

Eva looked up. ‘I never liked him, you know.’ 

‘Never trust a man who loves the sound of his own voice this much.’ 

‘ _You still have fifteen minutes to comply, but that_ _’s a lot of people holed up on your floor you’ll need to move across the building. I suggest you get going. Then again, if you want to negotiate for more time, I see you’ve got some guests. Put Albus Potter on the comms, and we’ll talk._ ’ 

‘How did he know?’ Eva scowled. 

‘You two came through the front door. I’d be astonished if he didn’t have people watching.’ Pretorius waved a hand at one of her enforcers, who scuttled off down a corridor. ‘But if he’s using the lobby’s communication magics, we can talk, and we can buy some time.’ 

Pretorius’ subordinate returned a minute later with a carved wooden box, which he opened up to show a shimmering, silvery crystal. Eva had seen such magics used before, though as these crystals could only communicate within an extensive and complicated ritual, they had limited use. But it wasn’t that difficult for the South African Department of Magic to set these up to work across the headquarters. 

‘One problem,’ she said. ‘We don’t _have_ Al to do the talking.’ 

Pretorius pushed the box over to her. ‘You’re his associate. What do we have to lose?’ 

_Everything_. Eva picked up the crystal. ‘Geiger. It’s been a while.’ 

It took long, thudding heartbeats before Geiger answered, and his voice drifted through the crystal, not through the overhead speakers. ‘Eva Saida, the traitor. I didn’t think you’d have the guts to speak up, not after you hid from me in Rotterdam.’ 

‘I thought I’d find you topside on the _Naglfar_. I would have been happy for a chance to catch up.’ This was a lie. Erik Geiger’s skill with a wand made her think twice about a direct confrontation. She hadn’t survived as long as she had by being cocky. 

‘A missed opportunity. Does Potter make you do his talking for you, now?’ 

‘He’s playing hero, collecting stray pups from the lower levels. He’s a friendlier face than me. People follow him, and he doesn’t like sitting idle.’ The lie came as easy as breathing, because it kept them all breathing. 

‘His reputation precedes him. As does yours. Are you rethinking your allegiances yet?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Geiger. You’re an even _less_ friendly face than me.’ 

A wry chuckle. ‘You’re hurting my feelings, Saida. I thought we could talk as equals. I know you’re a professional. You’re going to deal with me, because there’s no way you’re going to die down here for these people.’ 

Eva’s gaze tore from the crystal, dragged across the room of law enforcers, the few lingering civilians. Soldiers and innocents alike, and not a single one of them meant anything to her. _You need to protect these people._ She lifted a placating hand to Pretorius as she answered, ‘It’s not my preferred way to go.’ 

‘That’s it. Leave the heroics for others. You want out of here, and while I’m sure someone would be happy if I dragged you in by the throat - Raskoph doesn’t forgive easily - you’re not top of my priority list. You’ve got a judge and a division head down there, leading figures of the South African government. You’ve got Nathalie Lockett and Astoria Malfoy. You’ve got the remains of the Crime Bureau. You send all of them up to us, and you, Potter, the rest of the civilians - you get to walk.’ 

Eva’s jaw tightened, and she looked away from Pretorius. ‘And what happens to everyone I send up there?’ 

‘They submit to the Council of Thorns or we will grant them their noble, defiant death.’ 

She inhaled sharply through her nose. ‘You know that sounds like a good deal to me,’ said Eva, ‘but I’m just the dumb muscle, and I’ve got a real hard-liner down here. I’m sure she’d happily die for her people, but she doesn’t much like the idea of negotiating with you either. You’re going to have to give me some time.’ 

‘I gave you half an hour.’ 

‘That was fifteen minutes ago, and you’ve only just come to me with this. Previously it was vague offers of mercy, nothing concrete. I don’t want to die for these people, but you’ve got to give me a chance to bring them around.’ It didn’t matter how mercenary she sounded, even if these were sentiments she’d uttered so many times before that they found some honest, bright, clear chord of assent within her. The people of South Africa _did_ mean nothing to her.   
  
_You have to protect these people._ It was the last thing he’d asked of her. 

Geiger took a long time to answer, and when he did, his voice was begrudging. ‘Alright, Saida. You’ve got an extra fifteen minutes. That’s a half-hour from now. Bring your boyfriend up from below, get him to talk sense to your hard-liners, and then you give me your answer. Everyone can march up and live, or you can stay down and die. I’m not unreasonable.’ 

_No_ , thought Eva as she set down the communication crystal, it winking into silence the moment she broke contact. _You_ _’re just a fanatic_. 

‘He’s lying,’ she said to Pretorius at once. ‘It doesn’t matter if you or the VIPs submit, they’ll kill you as a show of force to scare everyone else in the country into submitting.’ There were about ten members of the Crime Bureau, and roughly twenty civilians including the four named VIPs. ‘So that’s almost half dying to get the other half out.’ 

‘I’m not ordering my men to their deaths,’ said Pretorius, ‘and I’m meant to _protect_ those VIPs, not sell them out or let them sacrifice themselves.’ 

‘I don’t think I can get more time than I’ve had.’ Eva shook her head, and planted her hands on the table to steady herself. ‘Geiger’s not an idiot. He knows he’ll take losses, even with the Inferi, if he storms down here, which is why he’s negotiating. Maybe the upper levels chewed him up worse than he’d expected, maybe we got lucky there. But he’s not going to give us all the time in the world.’ 

‘Then we’d better hope,’ said Pretorius, looking to the wide doors into the belly of the building, ‘that Potter can pull this off.’ 

Eva frowned at the table, then pushed herself straight. ‘I don’t think he wants all of those VIPs dead, you know.’ 

‘You said he was going to kill them all -’ 

‘Probably most of them. The Council’s done that in other countries with leading figures. But if he _really_ wanted, he could send a wave of Inferi down and kill us all and show the _bodies_ to the world.’ Eva turned to the conference room, biting her lip. ‘Geiger’s not an idiot. He’ll know we want time. But why negotiate if he just wants corpses?’ 

‘Director Lombard runs _Magical Games_. She’s a known, popular face, but doesn’t exactly make or break policy affecting the Council. Judge Roux - I bet Geiger would _love_ to string up Judge Roux from the rafters, he’s one of the biggest anti-Council hard-liners. Also pretty anti-IMC.’ 

‘No valuable intel to be gained from them if they already have South Africa. Maybe he’d like to kill Judge Roux publicly.’ 

‘Maybe it’s one of the other two.’ Pretorius followed Eva’s gaze to the huddled civilians on the other side of the glass conference room walls, and where Nat Lockett and Astoria Malfoy sat against the walls. ‘Lockett’s a leading specialist on Lethe.’ 

‘The Council _made_ Lethe; I don’t think they want to know more about it. The IMC’s countermeasures aren’t a mystery.’ 

‘Unless they know something two ground-pounders like us don’t.’ Pretorius shrugged. 

‘ _Or_ it’s not Lockett they want.’ 

Pretorius looked to Astoria Malfoy - white-knuckled, pale skin even paler against her dark hair, eyes sunken. ‘What would the Council want with a relief work leader, other than making an example?’ 

Eva’s jaw tightened. There was nothing in Astoria’s posture that suggested anything but apprehension. Then again, if she were a liar, she’d been lying very well for a very long time. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘And maybe we’re better off trusting Albus and not finding out.’

* * 

The hotel recommended by Jorgen, their purveyor of Ice Elks, was warm and it was comfortable, but spending long hours in eternal night did not help sleep. Scorpius lay in a cosy bed and stared at a ceiling and felt like dawn was just around the corner. When he did drift off, it was into an uneasy half-rest, because his body was still not convinced he had the time to sleep properly. Memories and thoughts and imaginings swum in and out of focus, vivid and bizarre and warped, and so when he was woken up by a sound he wasn’t sure, for a long moment, if it was just in his head. 

But it went on and on; groaning, shrieking metal and shattering stone, bursting from the shore just north of Helluby. As it echoed off he could hear the voices of his neighbours, of all of the town, breaking into shouts of confusion and panic, and with a groan, Scorpius realised whatever this was, was real. 

He rolled out of bed, the room small but comfortably furnished, and stumbled for the window. Just pulling the curtains back brought a shock of cold air, even through the thick windows. As he squinted into the constant night, his body insisted that either he deserved another six hours of sleep or he’d slept six hours too long, and so he had to blink back mugginess to make out details through the gloom. The positioning of Tapeesa’s and his room meant he couldn’t see much through the window, though there was a hulking shadow along the northern coast he would have thought were craggy rocks. But they hadn’t been there the night - day? - before, and the specks of light of inquisitive townsfolk on the approach couldn’t yet tell him anything new. 

He only had one leg through his trousers before the door burst open and Rose stalked in, fully bundled up. ‘A ship’s crashed along the shore,’ she declared. ‘That’s not supposed to happen.’ 

Scorpius stumbled and fell over. ‘Gah - how d’you know, I can’t see anything?’ 

When he stuck his head up from behind the bed, she was arching an eyebrow at him. Apparently the easiest ‘normal’ reaction to summon at him was her old, familiar superiority. ‘I _asked_ , Scorpius.’ 

‘And you’re already dressed -’ He clawed upright, and decided it was fair play to take his time finding a shirt if she was going to burst into his bedroom. ‘Did you even sleep?’ 

Her lips quirked, and he wondered if she was sharing his sense of _deja vu_. ‘I did. Not well. I washaving coffee downstairs and reading, yes. But you’re clearly busy here. It _is_ morning, so how about _I_ go take a look at the ship and _you_ go see if Jorgen has the Elks ready for us? Then we’ll come back here for breakfast.’ 

‘Why are you investigating?’ 

‘Because ships aren’t meant to crash just south of the only wizarding settlement on the north coast of Baffin Island.’ 

‘I don’t think ships are _supposed_ to crash anywhere.’ 

She gave him a withering look and left, and Scorpius wondered how much old times had really changed. Except for the death and all. But it did mean he could get dressed in a modicum of peace, peering periodically out of the window to monitor the tiny dots of light swarming towards the looming shadow on the coast. 

‘Of course she’s going to investigate,’ he muttered. ‘Why _not_ check out the creepy crashed ship?’ 

A consultation of his watch, which always sat in his hand with a guilty weight, confirmed it was early morning, local time. Most of those going to investigate the ship would have been roused by its wrecking upon the shore, and he only got sleepy glances when he emerged from his room and descended through the small hotel and its three floors. For every inhabitant of Helluby going to look at the ship, three stayed in bed. The arctic air was enough to snatch away his first breath out the door, but it also jolted him awake. The dark wooden walkways, gritted to prevent slipping on ice, thudded under his boots, and he had to squint through the gloom of street-lights, most windows of the small houses remaining dim. 

‘Who the hell lives here this time of year?’ mumbled Scorpius, and ignored the errant thought that the last place he’d called home was a school as he tromped down the roadway. Even Muggles lived this far north, he reasoned, but they didn’t have enchantments to keep warm, magical fabrics that were lightweight and yet could banish the cold. Somehow they endured, though he didn’t envy them. 

The light was on in Jorgen’s shop as he got there, and the little bell rang when he ducked through the door. ‘Morning? You open yet?’ 

Jorgen emerged from a back room, broad face lined with thoughtfulness. ‘You are here early.’ 

‘The wreck woke us. We still want breakfast, but then we’ll want to hit the road. Ice. If the elks are ready?’ 

Jorgen looked to the door. ‘It is a ship wrecking on the shore, then?’ His frown deepened. 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius ran a hand through his hair. ‘Rose went to take a look, along with half the town. I guess that’s what passes for excitement here.’ He tried to smile, tried to make it a gentle joke. 

Jorgen did not smile. ‘Perhaps you should take a look with her.’ 

‘I got my marching orders.’ Scorpius landed his hands on the counter, huffing. ‘So, the sled. It’s ready?’ 

‘If you go and get your breakfast, go meet her.’ 

‘And then it’ll be ready?’ Working with Prometheus Thane had done many things to Scorpius, but one of the few lessons for which he was grateful was the honing of his survival instincts. They were not perfect, which was why he’d thought John Colton had entirely more sinister motives when he’d run into him in the Nothing in Moderation bar. But they were keeping him alive against all odds, and now they screamed at him when he met Jorgen’s worried, blue-eyed gaze. He froze. ‘What the hell is going on?’ 

Jorgen drew a slow, raking breath. His was a tension that Scorpius couldn’t quite place; it wasn’t that of a man poised to strike, waiting for the right opening. But he _was_ waiting, and he _was_ poised, and Scorpius almost went for his wand. 

Then there was a scream that rolled across Helluby from the north, and Scorpius’ wand instead was levelled at the door. He darted over, yanked it open, burst into the night air, and his breath was stolen anew as he stood on the road and stared. 

The huge, hulking shape of the cargo ship was still like a reef along the shore, the tiny dots of wand-lights not enough to give him a clear view. But those wand-lights were moving, no longer on a steady approach for the ship, but scattering, flailing, panicked. They were joined by new, pale dots that sprung from the shadows of the ship, and though they were such a long way away, from the screaming and from his gut, Scorpius knew what they were. 

Lethe Inferi. 

_Rose_ … 

‘No, no, no…’ That was Jorgen stumbling into the darkness beside him, the big man’s chest heaving, expression aghast as he saw the sights and heard the screaming. He mumbled something in Norwegian, then turned on Scorpius, brow furrowing with desperation. ‘I only told them of you - I didn’t _know_!’ 

A cold fist clenched in Scorpius’ chest, and he met the bigger man’s gaze, unflinching. ‘Told who?’ 

‘I didn’t expect _this_ -’ 

Jorgen had a full head of height on him, and yet the next thing Scorpius knew, he’d slammed the bigger man against the wall to his shop, fists clenched in his jacket, the two of them nose to nose. Scorpius’ voice came rumbling from his chest, tempered by the ice inside of him, an ice he knew had been brought from the Otherworld itself and had stayed trapped within since. ‘ _Told. Who?_ ’

* * 

‘Are you kidding me?’ Selena put her hands on her hips and glared at the world’s stringiest Thornweaver. ‘You don’t make a move against me for _weeks_ in my own home, but you track me down to the most boring library ever?’ 

‘I’ve caught you away from all security. I say it’s working well.’ Stringy waggled his wand at the still shape of Matt. ‘Now, you want to put your wand down and come with me, or shall I make him squirm some more?’ 

‘You’re seriously threatening the Stunned, one-handed wizard. Tell me, does the Council of Thorns hand out medals for class and, if so, are you trying to collect enough to build your own _spine_?’ She did, however, let her wand drop to the floor. 

‘Oh, boo hoo. The girl I’ve got at wand-point thinks I’m a coward. I’m a _successful_ coward, aren’t I?’ 

‘I imagine with the girl at wand-point is the only way you ever _are_ successful.’ But even as she spoke, her voice a disinterested drawl, her gaze ran over Matt, over Stringy, over the walls and shelves, because she knew there was nobody coming to the rescue. Sniping at her new captor was the only way she could think of stalling for time while she hoped for inspiration or a miracle. 

‘That’s enough. Grab the book, and come with me.’ 

‘You want the book?’ Selena looked at the Black Book of Carmarthen, still resting on the stand. ‘It’s a very boring book.’ 

‘If it’s of interest to you, it’ll be of interest to my bosses. Go on.’ 

The book hung heavy in her hands when she closed it and picked it up, like it was reluctant to leave the plinth. ‘What’re you going to do with him?’ She tried to not look directly at Matt, still splayed out on the floor. It wouldn’t help. 

‘Nothing, if you cooperate.’ 

Selena met Stringy’s eyes. ‘You’re lying.’ 

‘I don’t need another prisoner.’ 

‘And you don’t need another witness.’ Fury flashed in her gut, but she stamped down on it. All anger would do was precipitate violence, and she needed Stringy calm. Unsuspecting. So it was with a supreme effort that she contorted her expression not into anger, but fear. ‘Please - look, I’ll cooperate, just please don’t -’ 

He twitched his wand to one side. ‘Then come over here, and I’ll think about it.’ 

Selena wrapped one arm around the Black Book of Carmarthen, and rested her free hand on the plinth as if she needed its support. ‘Okay. Okay.’ Then she coiled for action. ‘ _The Writings of Edwin Bamfle, Magical Thatcher._ _’_   
  
Stringy squinted. ‘What -?’ 

Then he was hit in the back of the head by the huge tome as it flew from the shelf behind him towards the plinth. With a yelp he staggered, but Selena was already moving, dropping the Black Book and lunging for her dropped wand. She hit the ground hard, rolled, rose onto one knee - 

\- and got the Stun off a split second before Stringy did. He collapsed with barely a gurgle. She hit him with a second Stun just to be sure, kicked his wand away, summoned magical bindings to truss him up from head to toe, and only when she stood over his immobilised form did she realise she was shaking. 

The shake extended to her voice when she spun and waved her wand at Matt. ‘ _Ennervate_!’ 

He burst into a flood of curses, clawing to his feet and limping over. ‘Hell - are you okay, are you -’ 

‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ But she did nothing to fight his arm around her shoulder, warm and grounding, even if it was easier to force a smile than succumb to the quavering inside. ‘Thank God for Edwin Bamfle.’ 

‘I should have known they would come for you again,’ Matt growled. ‘You’re still just as much of a target - I should have been more careful, I should have been more vigilant -’ 

‘Or, you know, _I_ could have been more careful, too.’ She put a hand on his arm, squeezed gently despite finding him solid as apprehensive iron. ‘But I’m okay. You’re okay. We should call this in, get him picked up - they can question him, we’ll get a lot out of it, no doubt - and then take the Black Book to base.’ 

And he nodded, even though his gaze was guarded, guilty, and she knew there was nothing she could say right now to stop him from taking this as a personal failure. 

That was alright for the moment. She was happy to take the beating of a Thornweaver who’d tried to abduct her as a personal success.

* * 

His father’s Invisibility Cloak hid him from sight, but not from sound. Albus thought he’d learnt that lesson well over the years, but the first time he ran into an Inferius on the stairwell was a cruel reminder. 

They were sharp-witted, the Lethe Inferi. Converted so swiftly from the living to the walking dead, they kept much of their faculties, and while their bodies warped they did not rot. Down the darkened hallways they prowled, elongated arms and claw-like nails raking along the paved floor, and that they walked so silently and drew no breath meant they could hear very, very well indeed. 

Albus went from jogging up the stairs and thinking himself alone to freezing when he realised footsteps were padding like a cushioned drum-roll down towards him. A glance upwards showed a flash of ivory-white flesh, of one of those blackened sockets and rows of sharpened teeth leering down at him, and he knew he’d not been quiet enough. 

Magic was not always as silent as he’d have liked, so there was only one thing for it. He lunged upward, grabbed the bottom of the flight of stairs above him, and tucked his legs up. The Cloak would hide him from sight, so long as he could stay silent, hold his breath, not get noticed. 

The Inferius trotted down the stairwell towards him, and Albus’ jaw tightened as he wondered if they could _smell_. 

_No. That_ _’s ridiculous. They’re dead -_   
  
_\- they can_ hear _, can_ _’t they?_   
  
He’d made the play. All he could do now was wait, and hope he could manage a silent take-down if it all went wrong. It wasn’t that he had any qualms about destroying an Inferius, but he had no idea what the Council of Thorns was doing to monitor their necromantic shock-troopers. It was easier to be hidden than to be on the run. 

Footsteps padded under him, and despite his better judgement, Albus drew himself up higher and craned his head back so he could look down. From this angle, all he could see was a white shape on the stairs below, hear the scrape of nails on stone, hear - 

Sniff. Sniff, sniff. It didn’t need to breathe. It _could_ smell. 

_The entire purpose of this cloak is to shroud me from death. That_ _’s rather literal right now._ Albus held his breath. 

And then the Inferius set off further down the steps with its jerky lope. Perhaps it had lost interest and decided something else was more important. Perhaps it thought what it had heard was further down. 

He waited until silence reigned before dropping, cat-like, to the floor, and when he proceeded it was with much more care. 

The South African Department of Magic’s international transport division was two more floors up, and he wished there were ways up other than a narrow, confined stairwell. But he made it to the door without further incident, sliding into the corridor. He doubted Geiger would not have sent Thornweavers to secure this level. 

Around the corner was the division’s lobby, stark and abandoned. The Department had been quiet even before the break-in, activity internationally and in Durban drawing staff away. But he could hear voices wafting from one of the side-rooms, and so he flattened himself against a wall, sliding closer. 

Filing room. Three voices, a glance around the corner confirming the masks of Thornweavers. Perhaps they had some of the Portkeys here, perhaps they didn’t, but Albus didn’t fancy rooting around the floor with these three unaccounted for. 

He took a few long moments before he made his move. Studied the three figures, bent over records and oblivious to his presence, studied the shape of the room, the contours of the wall. 

When he rounded the corner and flung his first spell, it was not directly at any of the wizards. Invisible energy rippled through the air before it thudded off the far wall - and deflected, bouncing as he’d planned and bursting into blazing light to thud into one of the three Thornweavers, who dropped like a stone. It took time to prepare a Stun to rebound on its first impact, but when his best ally was surprise, adding to the confusion was worth the wait. 

The two Thornweavers spun, not towards the door but towards the apparent source of the spell the opposite way, and so within seconds and the briefest of wand-waves, Albus had them incapacitated on the ground. The Cloak’s great weakness was its limiting of his movements, so he brushed it over a shoulder as he advanced, double-checking they were out cold, taking the extra moment to bind them firmly. 

The fight had lasted less than five seconds. 

He didn’t take long studying the notes on the table. Division records, nothing more, and nothing of the Thornweavers’ own plans. Whatever he’d want would probably be in the Portkey chambers rather than the administration offices. But then his gaze fell on to the fallen trio, and the rings that gleamed on their fingers. 

He’d seen those before, back in Saint Annard. Thane had used one to turn the Inferi to his will, and while Albus had no idea how to do such a thing, denying the Thornweavers such power sounded like a good plan. He slipped them from their fingers, pocketed them, then drew the Cloak back around himself and returned to the lobby. 

And froze as he heard a voice echoing from the corridor leading deeper through the level. 

‘Corentin? Bertonelli?’ He couldn’t see the Thornweaver yet, but they sounded guarded. Perhaps they’d expected to hear from their allies sooner. Perhaps they’d heard his fight. And then, quieter but still clear, ‘Go on, you creepy things. Take a look and kill anything you find.’ 

Two Inferi burst into the lobby heartbeats later, and Albus flattened himself against the wall, shrouded still by the Cloak. They prowled around the open space, but it didn’t take them long before their attention was drawn towards the open door, and onward they stalked. 

Albus’ heart lunged into his throat. The three Thornweavers inside were out cold, bound and unarmed, and the voice’s orders had been clear. _Kill anything you find_. The speaker probably didn’t mean for that to include other Thornweavers, but Al had three control rings that now felt like they burnt in his pocket. 

_They_ _’re going to get ripped apart._ His grip tightened on his wand. _People need you to stay alive and don_ _’t these bastards deserve what’s coming?_   
  
The first Inferius to the door peered inside, then colourless lips drew back across sharpened teeth and it _hissed_. 

Albus wasn’t sure if he’d chosen to move. But moving he was, wand snapping outward with a slashing curse that whipped across the Inferius’ back. It gave one of those screams, the screams that were inhuman enough to be disquieting but human enough to be _chilling_ , and reeled around. 

It was a lot harder to take down an Inferius in one blast. 

The second one lunged for him, its senses good enough to know where a spell had come from, and Albus hurled himself back. His wand lashed out with a blast to knock the pouncing Inferius to its knees; his hand yanked the Cloak away, because now he needed to move. 

And now he had two Inferi to duel. The one he’d first slashed was loping around, trying to flank him, and so he advanced on the one he’d dropped. A flash of his wand brought the paving stone under its chin jerking upwards, and the head snapped back with the _crack_ of a spine. It tumbled, head dangling at an odd angle, limbs twitching. 

But Albus didn’t have time to finish it off before the other lunged from behind him, claws slashing. He barely got a Shield up in time, the claws scraping on a magical barrier. His wand holding the protections firm, he slammed his left fist into the creature’s face, knocking it back. 

His knuckles came away bloody. _That_ _’d be an infection if I weren’t immune. These things are hell on wheels to fight._   
  
And yet he couldn’t feel disgust, horrendous as his opponents were. He’d just hurled himself into danger to save his enemies from a grisly death, and even though a part of him raged and swore and called him a fool, his blood sang in his veins, his head spun, and every movement came easier, more natural than it had in two and a half years. 

_You_ _’re a damned idiot and you’re alive again._   
  
He ducked a swipe from the one he’d punched, lashed out a booted foot at the one on the floor that now crawled towards him. A step forward slammed his shoulder into the standing one’s gut, and he flipped it over his shoulder onto the lobby floor. 

With barely a thought, his wand was under its chin, and its vicious _hiss_ was cut short when his spell blew its head clean off. He didn’t even have to look to dart away from another slash from the other one, then spun, a slashing spell on the tip of his mind that would cut the head off and end this - 

_‘Stupefy_!’ 

And the Stun from the Thornweaver who’d let them off the leash in the first place hit him in the back. The world spun, his wand flew from his hand as his limbs locked, and with a crash he couldn’t cushion, Albus landed face-first on the paved lobby floor. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the still-moving Inferius trying to claw towards him, until a booted foot landed on its arm. 

‘Enough,’ growled the Thornweaver. ‘Stay. Good work.’ He spoke to the monstrosity like it was a particularly crazed pet, as if he was supposed to say the words but could summon no true feeling behind them. 

Albus saw his wand kicked further from his grasp, then groaned through clenched teeth as his hands were jerked behind his back. Cords tightened at his wrist, scraping against skin, and his jaw tightened. ‘Nrg -’ 

‘Stay quiet even when the Stun wears off,’ the Thornweaver told him, ‘and I won’t have to gag you. I imagine you got a lot of talking to do in the near future. Geiger’s going to want a word.’ 

Geiger. Erik Geiger. He’d just got himself captured by Raskoph’s right hand man, and all because he’d stuck his neck out to save Thornweavers from their own, twisted creations. 

_It would have been on you, if you_ _’d taken their rings and then let them get torn up and eaten while they couldn’t defend themselves._   
  
_Some people would have called that justice._   
  
Despite himself - despite the situation, despite the fact that he was even less sure he’d see the day out, despite the certainty that his circumstances were about to get a whole lot worse, and despite that his jaw was locked enough to muffle any sound, Albus Potter didn’t protest as he was dragged across the paved floor, because he was too busy laughing. 


	35. We Are Not Angels Here

Investigating a shipwrecked freighter in a frozen land of eternal night was not one of her _brightest_ ideas. But Rose was far beyond believing in coincidence; they’d been in Helluby one night and already a Muggle ship had deviated from its course and crashed into the shore. If it really _was_ all about her and Scorpius, she was far beyond ego, too. 

‘Does this happen sometimes?’ she asked the heavyset fisherman who’d set off to investigate at the same time. ‘Muggle ships maybe get confused by the charms protecting the village -’ 

‘No,’ he said, lips barely moving under his impressive beard. ‘And that ship? Not an icebreaker. Shouldn’t be so far north.’ 

They stayed silent after that, because he wasn’t talkative and she didn’t want to voice her apprehension. Believing in coincidences was foolish, but the alternative was a little crazy. So they strode across the solid ground, past jutting chunks of shattered metal from the ship’s hull that had broken loose and now tried to stab the ice, until they reached the main body of the freighter. It loomed above them like a colossus, the port side rent open for a gaping hole of twisted steel that led to only darkness. 

A flash of colour in nearby debris had Rose hunkering down next to a patch of wreckage. It turned out to be a satchel that had caught her eye, solid leather she recognised as dragonskin. She flipped the flap open and swore. 

‘What is it?’ said the fisherman, eyes on the freighter. 

‘This definitely wasn’t an accident. The metal’s burnt, not just torn; something blasted the hull. Maybe knocked it off-course, but definitely made sure the hull breached. With magic.’ 

‘How do you know?’ 

Rose hefted the satchel and stood. ‘Because this is full of imbued runestones. Just a couple of these could probably blast that hull. This looks like a reserve that didn’t get set off, maybe got blown onto the shore.’ She slipped the satchel into her magically enlarged backpack. That many runestones could blow them both to kingdom come. Even if dragonskin was solid protection, it would take only the wrong magical discharge at the wrong moment and their day would get worse. ‘Someone did this,’ she said, crunching towards the freighter. ‘A wizard, on purpose. But why?’ 

And then she saw, amid the wreckage, white move against white on the ice and snow. 

Three years ago, she would have assumed it was tumbling frost. Three years ago, she would have gone to investigate. Three years ago, she would have ignored the scream in her gut as her every instinct told her to run - told her that she was prey, and a predator was nearby. 

She stopped short, which was why the Inferius who lunged from the upper decks of the shattered freighter landed on the fisherman and not her. He screamed, the most noise she’d heard him make in their ten minutes’ acquaintance, a strangled bellow of fear and pain punctuated by a gurgle. 

And the white snow was stained with blood. 

They were not the only townsfolk to come and investigate. People had come in their ones and twos, and while Rose and the fisherman had been amongst the earliest, others were clambering up to the main deck, peering through gaps in the hull into the darkness beyond. But they all heard the scream, and all saw the movement, and definitely heard when Rose stumbled back, wand flashing out, and bellowed, ‘ _Run_!’ 

Her scything blast of magic took the Inferius’ head almost clean off, and it collapsed atop the fisherman. He lay flat on his back, clawing at the mass of gore that was his neck and upper body, not yet dead. 

Then from the inside of the shattered freighter came the rumbling of thudding footsteps, and the low _hiss_ of frozen breath torn from rasping, dead throats. 

Rose stared at the fisherman. If he died, he’d be one of them within a minute. But he wasn’t dead _yet_. 

‘Shit,’ she hissed, and lunged for him. The cold dark air around her was erupting into screams and panic as the twenty or so townsfolk of Helluby began to run or start climbing down from the freighter. Up on the deck, through the gaps in the hull, she could see flashes of bone-white flesh moving. 

The fisherman was croaking something in his native tongue, the meaning plain enough even if the words weren’t. But she was unsure if he wanted mercy or salvation, nor if she could give him either. 

‘Shit,’ she swore again. A swish of the wand put a simple healing charm to work on his throat; nothing brilliant, but it might stem the bleeding and ease the breathing, and her next swish of the wand was on herself. The world became lighter, easier, and when she hauled the big man over her shoulder, it was like he weighed no more than a feather. 

When she straightened, the gloom of the gash in the freighter was no longer quite so dark. It was, instead, peppered with slivers of white, a dozen or more Inferi lurking in the entranceway, coiled and poised for action. Stood amongst them, a tall, imposing epicentre of darkness, wearing one of those masks she now knew to fear and hate, was a human figure in long, black robes. 

All the Thornweaver did was lift a hand, no wand in sight. 

With a hissing shriek that was like a stab of terror in her gut, the Inferi bounded forward, and by sheer instinct her wand snatched up. Wind billowed past her, freezing and biting and hurling up the ice and snow from her feet and at the oncoming charge. It wouldn’t drop them, but it was enough to make them stumble, which was all she needed to turn and run. 

Frozen ground slipped underfoot, frozen air tore at her lungs with every gasp, and the fisherman thudded against her shoulder at every step. All around her now was screaming, panic, as the Inferi burst from the freighter and set about the townsfolk. Some of them had started running even before her, tearing across the ice and snow back towards Helluby. 

Some of them had not, and most of the screams behind her were not of fear. 

Her strength-enhancing spells were fading from her limbs by the time her feet thudded not on ice and snow, but the gritted paths of Helluby, and Rose staggered as the full weight of a burly, injured man bore down on her. If she cast again, her body would be drained and worn when the spell expired, and if she wasn’t out of danger that meant collapsing in the middle of a crisis. She couldn’t carry him any further, and almost collapsed trying to set him down on the wooden path. He’d passed out in the flight. _Levitation_ , Rose thought. _Or I get help_ … 

She lifted her head. The Inferi hadn’t reached town yet, but the screams from the freighter had roused Helluby. Every building had a light on. Some of the townsfolk poured into the street, to investigate or to flee. At other doors she could see flashes of magic as they barricaded themselves in. 

_Lock him in somewhere_ , she thought, and wrapped her hand around the man’s collar. _Pump some healing spells into him, barricade him in, and then find Scorpius. You can_ _’t save everyone._ She straightened, looked around for some shack or storage hut, and began to drag the fisherman across the icy path towards the waterfront. 

Which was when the Inferius she was dragging sank his teeth into her calf. 

She screamed, yanking her leg back and whipping around to face the remains of the man who must have perished as she’d run. Already the transformation was setting in, his skin going paler, eyes going sunken and dark. But still there was flesh on his face, more than most of Lethe’s Inferi, and this allowed the monstrosity - for he was no man, not any more - to snarl and glower. 

Rose rammed her wand under his chin and let loose the most powerful blasting curse her pain could summon. Any blood on the snow that had been hers was immediately drowned, but her leg throbbed, wobbled under her. A quick healing charm staunched the bleeding, dulled the edge of the pain, but she didn’t have time for more. It wouldn’t bleed out. She wouldn’t pass out. Anything else was a distraction. 

And when she looked up to see the wave of Inferi loping across the ice and snow to bear down on Helluby, she knew she had no time for distractions. Or, most likely, saving anyone else. 

_Scorpius. I have to find Scorpius_. He’d gone for Jorgen’s shop, and the quickest way there was along the water-front. Hobbling, she rushed as best she could down the gritted path towards the pier, towards the wooden walkway that ran along abandoned fishing boats, barricaded or emptied shop fronts, nets of fish or barrels of chum that had been knocked over in the panicked flight of the townsfolk. 

The screams of Helluby hit a whole new pitch behind her as the Inferi reached the settlement, but she didn’t stop. Running too fast meant risking falling, her leg throbbed enough to make her head spin, and in the darkness and confusion it was hard to be sure she was going the _right_ way. 

But she was going away from the Inferi, so that would do. 

The wooden pier shook underfoot, and Rose stumbled as she looked over her shoulder. Half a dozen Inferi, loping along the waterfront in hot pursuit - and they didn’t struggle on the slippery ground like she did. They wouldn’t _die_ if they fell. 

And they were faster than her. 

Rose let herself collapse against a fence, breath burning frost in her lungs, and shook her head to clear it. _You don_ _’t get to die here, Weasley. If you die, who saves him?_   
  
Her wand shot out towards the Inferi. ‘ _Aguamenti_!’ 

It didn’t reach them, of course, because the spell summoned a jet of water and not a fire-hose. But it was enough to coat the walkway for a good ten metres, which would do if only she could _concentrate_ \- 

But when she waved her wand at the sodden walkway, nothing came but sparks. Her head spun, her leg burned, and all she’d done was stop to dampen a path and let the Inferi gain precious yards on her. 

_Run. You can_ _’t do it._ ** _Run_** _._   
  
‘ _Glacio_!’ 

A bout of cold air burst past her, enough to chill her to the bone - and enough to freeze the damp walkway. The Inferi hissed as they slipped on the ice, stumbling and falling or at least slowing, and the sight of the loping monstrosities suddenly turned so ungainly would have been hilarious had she been capable of laughing. 

Then Scorpius’ hand was at her shoulder, dragging her in his wake. ‘Come on!’ 

‘Scorp, you -’ She gritted her teeth and forced her injured and exhausted legs to run, forced her pain-addled mind to focus. ‘Where the hell are we even _going_?’ 

‘ _He_ _’s_ still sorted our sleigh.’ Dimly she realised Scorpius wasn’t alone, that the bloodied and wandless form of Jorgen was running beside them. The disgust in Scorpius’ voice was almost palpable, but she couldn’t think about that just yet. 

She didn’t look back as they ran. ‘The town -’ 

‘There’s _nothing_ we can do, Rose, we can’t turn back a tide of them.’ 

‘I know, but they’re going to -’ 

‘We have to _go_ , Rose!’ 

It wasn’t that she had a better idea. But as they broke through the narrow streets of Helluby, out onto the open southern stretch towards Jorgen’s shop, she knew they were leaving a lot of people to die. 

And then a cluster of Inferi, mouths and claws bloodied by the hunt, burst out from a street several houses down and broke into loping pursuit. 

‘ _Go_!’ Scorpius urged, pushing her onward. He flashed his wand back to send another burst of frozen air at the Inferi, the same trick she’d used at the freighter, _Methuselah_ _’s_ trick. This didn’t slow them down much. ‘The sleigh’s ready, the elks are harnessed, just jump on board and _go_ …’ 

There was a note to his voice she didn’t trust, but Rose was in no state to argue, in no state to do anything but put her head down and run. Her blood hammered in her ears with every step, every crunch of her boots on snow, her breath rasping through her throat. Jorgen seemed just as pained and panicked, speaking in a babble to Scorpius she couldn’t quite catch, but his desperation was clear. 

The sleigh loomed ahead, more like a hut on rails. The quartet of Ice Elks - huge, hulking creatures of frosty blue coats and antlers that shone as if made of ice - hoofed the ground, looking like they’d bolt the moment they got the chance, even magical creatures like them knowing to fear the stench of blood and death in the air. But it was far away - too far away - and the Inferi were too hot on their heels. 

Scorpius’ hand was at her back again. ‘Go, _go_ ,’ he urged. ‘I’m right behind you, I’ll -’ 

‘If you say it, I will _kill_ you, Malfoy,’ she swore, and for a heartbeat she almost meant it. But she didn’t argue, limping onwards, not daring to look back. 

‘I wasn’t going to,’ came Scorpius’ answer from over her shoulder, a little more distant. And then she heard the flash of magic, heard Jorgen’s scream. She didn’t look back until Scorpius was at her side again, hauling her across the icy stretch towards the sleigh. She didn’t want to slip, but more importantly she didn’t want to see what she knew she was behind her. 

Jorgen lay on his back in the snow, clutching his leg, trying to staunch the blood pouring from a vicious gash at his thigh. But his screaming didn’t last very long, because then the Inferi were upon him, and if they could not be stopped by ice, they could be stopped by blood, and by prey vulnerable and defenceless before them. 

They didn’t take long lunging on his corpse, biting and clawing and raking as their instincts demanded. But they took long enough for Scorpius and Rose to make it to the sleigh. He shoved her onto the driver’s bench before hauling himself up after her, and then there was a whip of the reins, snorts from the Ice Elks, and they were moving. 

Rose clutched her seat as she looked back. Their Inferi had given up as the sleigh drew away, loped back towards the town. Someone had done what someone always did when the Inferi attacked, which was start a fire. The Inferi did what they always did in the face of fire, which was try to kill the source, which meant that fire had spread. Screams filled the air, smoke filled the air, and in the land of eternal night, the only light came from the blazing, burning houses. 

The flames played across the ice like rippling gold, shimmering on the snow, and shimmering on the bloodied mass that was the remains of Jorgen. 

Leg throbbing, head spinning, Rose turned to Scorpius, who was urging the sleigh and the elks out into the open, wide, frozen expanse inland. ‘What did you _do_.’ 

He didn’t look at her, cold eyes on the horizon. ‘They were going to catch us -’ 

Despite herself, her grip on her wand tightened. ‘Jorgen - what did you _do_ , Scorpius -’ 

‘He was working for the Council!’ Scorpius spat at last. Frozen winds howled across their faces as they surged into the darkness, but she could barely feel it through the pain and disbelief. ‘He was paid, paid _days_ ago to send a Floo to them if _anyone_ from outside came to town and wanted to travel inland. And he did! Last night, after we gave our names and checked in!’ 

Rose sank back on the bench, shoulders hunching in. ‘There was a Thornweaver on board that ship. They filled it with Inferi and crashed it into the shore - they set them on a whole _town_ of people - just to kill _us_.’ 

‘ _He_ betrayed his own people to the Council. He sold _us_ out. He had to know they weren’t just going to send a gift basket!’ 

‘They knew we were coming.’ 

‘I don’t think so,’ said Scorpius. ‘He was paid off before we even knew about Baffin Island. I think Raskoph knew we were chasing down Cassian’s path and made preparations. So that’s one good thing.’ 

‘ _What_ _’s_ one good thing?’ 

He looked at her only out of the corner of his eye. ‘It means we’re on the right path.’ 

The pain in her leg had her silent for long heartbeats after that, the only sound the whistling wind as they rattled across the icy plains beyond Helluby. But it didn’t last. ‘You knocked him down.’ 

Scorpius’ shoulders hunched in. ‘Yes.’ 

‘You left him to die.’ 

‘To slow the Inferi. So we could get away. Yes.’ 

She looked down at her leg. Blood had soaked the entire lower trouser leg by now, the work her brief healing charms had done already worn out. Carefully, weight on her good leg, she got to her feet. ‘I’m going inside,’ Rose said, light-headed by pain, blood loss, and horror. ‘I need to patch myself up and rest.’ 

Scorpius didn’t look at her, gaze still on the path. ‘You should,’ he said. ‘I’ve got Cassian’s map. I can set us on the right route.’ 

Ice Elks, Rose knew, were smart. Once they’d been set a direction, they would keep heading that way of their own accord. They didn’t need monitoring. But she didn’t discourage him from staying up there, in the ice and cold, while she clambered onto the roof of the sleigh and let herself into the cosy, comfortable interior. 

She needed to rest, she needed to mend her leg, but above all, with the screams of dying Helluby and dying Jorgen still echoing in her ears, she needed to _think_.

* * 

‘I’m _fine_ ,’ Matt said for the umpteenth time, massaging his stumpy right arm. ‘We’re both fine. Thanks to Selena.’ 

‘You’re lucky, is what you are,’ said Auror Savage, perched on his desk in the Auror Office. ‘A Thornweaver agent attacks you in the middle of Britain -’ 

‘It’s not my first fight with a Thornweaver.’ 

Savage looked at where his right arm ended, less discreet in his gawping than most. Matt didn’t know if he should feel annoyed by the staring or relieved that Savage wasn’t trying to pretend. ‘Could have been your last,’ the Auror then said, and Matt decided he was too frustrated to care. 

‘But we’ve _told_ you everything,’ said Selena, getting to her feet. ‘And the stringiest little Thornweaver is in a cell, and I’m sure he’s got lots to tell you about Thornweavers in Britain, so can we go?’ 

Savage looked between them. ‘You’ve got no idea how he knew you’d be there?’ 

‘You know, the first five times you asked that, I wasn’t sure.’ Selena’s voice was a drawl, but he could see her eyes flash. ‘But now you mention it _yet again_ …’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘No!’ Selena went to Matt’s side. ‘We’re going to go.’ 

‘I’m posting you a specific security detail,’ said Savage. ‘Young Jennings can watch you.’ 

‘I assume,’ Matt said quietly, ‘you mean watch _her_ , not _me_.’ 

Selena’s eyes narrowed. ‘Matthias Doyle is handling the research of the Chalice of Emrys. He’s _far_ more important to keep in one piece than me.’ He tried not to wince as she said, ‘one piece,’ but neither were looking at him anyway. 

‘And you’re the daughter of the leader of the wizarding world. So, I know who pays me,’ Savage pointed out. While he was sardonic, like he knew the realities in play more than he pretended, it was enough to make Selena roll her eyes. 

‘ _Fine_. Then I suppose he and I will have to stick together so your people protect us _both_.’ 

Savage shrugged, but he didn’t stop them from leaving. Selena kept her hand on Matt’s arm, and he had no choice but to let her guide him down the line of desks of the bullpen, towards the corridor lined with office doors that would eventually lead to the transport chambers. 

Then they rounded a corner and walked flat into Hermione Granger. Matt’s cringe was more by instinct, because it was one thing to run into his ex-girlfriend’s mother, and another thing entirely to run into his ex-girlfriend’s mother with his new girlfriend. ‘Ms Granger -’ 

‘What’s wrong?’ That was Selena, taking one look at Hermione and blurting this out, and Matt remembered she had far more experience of receiving grim news from that face. Even if it had looked like an otter a lot of the time. 

‘I heard what happened,’ Hermione said instead, voice tight as she looked between them. ‘You’re unharmed?’ 

‘We’re _fine_ , what’s going on?’ Selena’s grip on Matt’s arm tightened almost enough to hurt. 

‘I was looking for you. There’s news.’ 

‘From South Africa?’ 

Hermione grimaced. ‘The situation continues there. Durban’s overrun and so is the Department Headquarters. We’ve heard nothing about Albus or Saida.’ 

‘They’re resourceful, they’ll be fine,’ said Selena, a little like she was trying to convince herself. 

‘What’s the news?’ Matt pressed, because this was nothing new and would not be the root of tension, now so taut in the air he could almost taste it. 

Hermione looked away for a moment, then back. ‘Helluby - the magical fishing village Rose and Scorpius Portkeyed to - has been attacked by Inferi. A full-on wave as bad as Hogsmeade. The IMC is scrambling support units, but there’s not yet any word of survivors.’ 

Matt swallowed on a rising knot in his throat. ‘But it’s too early to tell, right?’ 

Hermione’s lips thinned. ‘Quite.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I’d heard of the attack and thought I should check up on you - and inform you. At the least, Selena, your mother will want to hear more directly that you’re well.’ 

‘I’m _alive_ , it’ll do,’ Selena drawled, but not with much conviction to her wryness. 

‘We should - we’ve got work to do,’ Matt blurted. 

Hermione nodded, still with that tight, controlled expression he realised he didn’t want to look at any more. ‘Then I shall let you be about it,’ she said, and left promptly. 

Selena looked at him. ‘You’ve got actual Welsh experts going over the Black Book. There’s literally nothing to do in the meantime.’ 

‘Then we should _rest_ ,’ said Matt, pulling his arm away. ‘It’s been a long day.’ By which he meant, he was utterly exhausted after taking a Stun to the back. Far more than he’d ever been, hours later, and it ached even more to be reminded of how his body was weaker, more prone to failing him. 

He saw her expression flicker, and he knew they were due a conversation. Knew he was due questions and she was due answers, but with Hermione’s news about their friends it was just one more vulnerability, one more weakness. And right then, he felt like lingering would bring all of his defences, all of his supports, crashing and crumbling apart and sink him into the abyss. 

Once, he’d not feared the abyss with her, because she’d been down there too. But that was a long time ago. 

‘I’ll see you at the office tomorrow?’ Selena managed, voice rather small. 

‘Yeah,’ Matt croaked, trying to not sound as drained and guilty as he felt. ‘Yeah. Tomorrow.’ And without another word he turned for the exit, because he needed to drag his broken and weakened body away from her before it failed them both completely.

* * 

‘We’ve only got ten minutes,’ said Pretorius in a low voice, just as the voice of Erik Geiger wafted through the communication crystal. 

‘ _Saida, you better pick up._ ’ 

There was a note in his voice, some fresh tension that made her insides seize up as she reached for the crystal and saw it light up at her touch. ‘This is Saida. We’ve still got ten minutes -’ 

_‘Correction. You_ had _ten minutes. Now you have no time and_ I _have Albus Potter_.’ 

Something warm and hopeful went away inside, and the cold certainty that slithered into its place was as familiar as it was unwelcome. It did, however, make sure her voice was calm and controlled when she answered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ 

It wasn’t that she thought he was bluffing, not really. Her bones knew he wasn’t, and this went beyond combat instincts, even beyond a pessimist’s caution. This was cold fact and hard truths. _He_ _’s got him._

‘ _I_ _’ll spare us both the posturing,_ ’ said Geiger, and there was the sound of mumbling and footsteps. ‘ _Say hello, Potter._ ’ 

There was no doubt the next voice was Albus’. ‘ _I_ _’m in the main lobby, there are -_ ’ 

A thud, a shout of pain, and the cold crawled up to Eva’s heart. ‘Enough,’ she said despite herself. ‘I believe you.’ 

‘ _Not only do you believe me_ ,’ said Geiger, ‘ _but you lied to me before, so we_ _’re not friends any more, Saida. You had ten minutes. That was before you tried to backstab me. So now you have_ no _time and a simple, one-time offer. I suggest you take it._ ’ 

Pretorius’ shoulders hunched up. ‘There is no way this ends well,’ she muttered. 

‘No shit,’ Eva growled, before lifting the crystal again. ‘I’m listening.’ It wasn’t as if she had a choice. 

‘ _You surrender. All of you. You disarm yourselves and march on up to the third floor lobby, and we will choose who gets to live and who gets to die, and in return, the people who live will include Albus Potter. Or you refuse, and everyone -_ everyone _\- will die. Starting with Albus Potter, right here, right now._ ’ 

‘He is going,’ hissed Pretorius, ‘to kill a _lot_ of innocent people if we surrender.’ 

_And if we don_ _’t surrender_ , thudded Eva’s bones, _Al dies. His life, for all of their lives._ The icy thorns tightened around her heart. _That_ _’s a deal I’d take._   
  
_He wouldn_ _’t._   
  
‘You know I can’t make that call right here and now,’ she said instead. ‘I’ve got bureaucrats down here, people who think they’re still in charge who care more about their own hides than one hostage - give me a chance to talk to them -’ 

‘ _Talk_?’ Disdain rolled off Geiger’s voice. ‘ _If you want something to happen, Saida, you know you can make it happen. This is the offer. Take it or leave it_.’ 

‘I _want_ to take it,’ said Eva. She felt Pretorius’ eyes on her, could feel the other woman’s disbelief, and knew her allegiance was being doubted because even she didn’t know if she was lying. ‘I just need time -’ 

‘ _I gave you time. No more time._ ’ A burst of magical energy, a _crack_ , and now a scream she knew, _knew_ was Albus. ‘ _How clear do I have to be, Saida_?’ 

And the cold inside her coiled like barbed wire. ‘You’re perfectly clear,’ she said, frustration flushed from her voice, icy control in its place. ‘So let me be clear. If you do _anything_ to him, I am going to march through all your Inferi, all your Thornweavers, all your fury and might and I will _keep coming. A_ nd by the time I’m done with _you_ , you will _beg_ for me to kill you.’ 

‘ _Big words from someone under siege. I_ _’m not quaking, Saida. This is your last chance. Walk everyone up here_ now _, or I_ _’m throwing everything I’ve got at you._ ’ 

She could feel Pretorius’ eyes on her, feel the blood in her veins turn to ice, feel what remained of her heart pumping into her with every beat, _Do it, do it, do it_. It came from deep inside, that instinct which had guided her every step for years, for her whole life, and never, ever steered her wrong because it kept her _alive_ , whatever the cost. 

_He wouldn_ _’t. He wouldn’t._   
  
Eva lifted a hand to Pretorious, urgency in her eyes as she spoke again into the crystal. ‘Alright, Geiger. Alright.’ It wasn’t difficult sound exhausted, defeated. ‘I’ll make it happen -’ 

‘ _Like hell. You_ _’re just saying whatever you think gives you time. This only ends one way, Saida, and surrender is the best option, but just so there’s_ no _doubt that I_ _’m serious_ -’ 

Frozen fingers wrapped around her throat. ‘Geiger, don’t you dare, don’t you _dare_ -’ 

‘ _Avada Kedavra_!’ 

The flash of energy. The thump. And silence. Pretorius had rocked back at the words, but Eva stood there, gaze fixed on nothing, motionless. When she did react, her voice came from a long way away, flat and impassive as she talked into the crystal. ‘I’ll be seeing you soon, Geiger.’ 

Then she put down the crystal, and didn’t even take a beat before she looked up at Pretorius. ‘We need to move. We need _everyone_ to move.’ 

Pretorius stared at her like she was a bomb that might go off, which a tiny part of Eva almost found laughable. An explosion required fire. She had nothing. ‘What did you have in mind?’ 

‘We need to get everyone up to International Transportation.’ 

‘That takes escorting a _lot_ of civilians -’ 

‘That’s your job.’ Eva’s wand slid into her hand. She’d never had her _own_ wand, one bought to match her and her temperament, but she’d always more than made do because she’d hadto. For the first time, the wand in her hand felt like it belonged, properly belonged, was an extension of her being and of her will, because she didn’t need a connection. 

She needed the void. 

‘What,’ said Pretorius as Eva turned around and started for the exit, the way Albus had gone, the last place she’d seen him alive, spoken to him, ‘is _your_ job in all of this?’ 

Eva didn’t look back as she left. ‘I’m going to clear the way.’

* * 

The Thornweaver who’d brought Albus in was glaring daggers at Geiger. ‘There is no way they’re going to take you seriously if they realise -’ 

‘They’re not _going_ to find out. But this rattles them, and a rattled enemy is an enemy that makes mistakes. Go get the Inferi and the others and get ready to storm the building, level by level. They’ll be planning something.’ Geiger looked down at the sprawled form of Albus Potter, flat on the lobby floor. ‘But they are not worth throwing away the son of Harry Potter as a prisoner.’ 

And with the blackened singe-marks of where the Killing Curse had impacted just inches away from his head, air burning in his lungs as he drew every agonised breath, Albus wasn’t about to say or do anything that might make his mixed luck turn even more sour. 


	36. The Barren Cold

Pain and fear and eternal night meant Rose wasn’t sure how long it took before Scorpius left the sleigh’s front bench and joined her in the cabin proper. She’d patched up her leg as best she could, which included drinking one of the draughts she’d packed which would help it heal quicker. But its dull throb and her exhaustion had sent her into an uneasy sleep, curled up under blankets and furs on the cabin’s bed. 

It meant she stirred quickly when the top hatch swung open, and in slipped Scorpius with a freezing breeze. She slid across the bed with her back to the wall, still a bundle under the furs, and watched as he brought the sconces to life, the cabin’s little fire, and started to shed his layers. Shimmering frost had settled in his hair, on his cheeks, giving him an ethereal look that faded as warmth slid into the colours of the room. 

‘I’ve got the elks pointed in the right direction, if I’m reading Cassian’s notes properly,’ he said, voice rough. ‘The sleigh’s packed up with a week’s supplies; we shouldn’t need that much. If I’m right, we’ll be there within a day.’ 

‘What _is_ “there”? What do you expect to find?’ It wasn’t the most pressing question, but it was the one she could stomach asking. 

‘I don’t know. Ultima Thule, I guess.’ He glanced at her only out of the corner of his eye as he pulled up a stool in front of the cabin’s fireplace. ‘What’s that?’ 

She’d pulled out the satchel of runes from her backpack to take a better look, and then given up, succumbed to exhaustion. Now she flipped it open and frowned at the stones inside. Each of them was only the size of her fist, with an etching that looked to her like a Norse rune. 

‘I’m no expert on these, but they’ve got the same runes and I saw what the debris of the freighter looked like. Thornweavers used some of these to blast the ship, breach the hull. I suppose running it aground wasn’t enough. They had to make sure the Inferi on board could get _out_.’ 

Scorpius watched the satchel for a moment, then his gaze fell on her. ‘How’s your leg?’ 

‘It’ll be fine.’ Now he’d turned the lights on, she could properly tell the cabin was bigger on the inside. It was still a glorified bedroom, with two doors at the back for a tiny bathroom and tiny kitchenette, but she supposed it was designed for fancy tours of the icy plains of Baffin Island. Not for a mad-cap dash across frozen wastes after ancient secrets. Scorpius, as always, did his amazing acts of derring-do in style. 

‘You’re lucky the Phlegethon immunity extends to Lethe.’ 

‘I’ve counted on that luck for a while.’ Rose winced. ‘I got bitten because I tried to save someone who then converted on me. I don’t know if I’d have risked it if I didn’t know I was immune.’ It was a shameful admission. 

‘You shouldn’t -’ 

‘Shouldn’t what?’ She sat up, drawing her bad leg in closer. ‘Risk myself for other people? Isn’t that the point of what we’re doing here? Or do only you get to sacrifice?’ 

He rocked back on the stool. ‘I was going to say you shouldn’t question yourself.’ 

She should have felt guilty, she thought, for leaping to the wrong confusion. Then she remembered the sound of Jorgen’s scream. Her voice came out low, hoarse. ‘What did you _do_ , Scorpius?’ 

A muscle worked in the corner of his jaw, and he looked to the fire. ‘He admitted he’d sent a message to the Council. He admitted he’d been paid by them to warn of any outsiders coming through town. He even admitted he was going to _delay_ us in Helluby so we couldn’t slip out before any reprisals came - don’t kid yourself, Rose, he knew what he was signing us up for.’ 

‘But probably not the _town_.’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Scorpius gestured around them. ‘The sleigh was packed up and ready, but he had no intention of giving it to us. I think he knew he might need a getaway.’ 

‘So that’s why you killed him?’ 

She saw his shoulders set. ‘I didn’t -’ 

‘You took his leg out so the Inferi would go for _him_ , not us. It’s cowardly to say you didn’t kill him.’ 

‘We weren’t going to make it. They were gaining ground, _you_ had an injured leg. It was him or us, so I picked the one who _hadn_ _’t_ sold out to the Council of Thorns.’ 

‘You honestly couldn’t see another way? No more tricks?’ She slid to the edge of the bed, bringing her furs with her. ‘That’s what you _do_ , Scorpius, you find the third way.’ 

He didn’t meet her gaze, kept staring at the fire as it continued to blossom to life, seeping warmth into the timbers and blankets of the cabin and yet not an iota of that heat reaching her. ‘Maybe that’s what I once did.’ Scorpius said at length. ‘But I’ve been telling you, haven’t I. I’m different.’

* * 

‘I’m sorry for calling you in, Miss Rourke,’ Lowsley fussed as he led her through the bustling offices. ‘But, um, he came in last night, and he’s not emerged since, and he’s not opening the door. I mean, he’s _in_ there, we don’t need to force ourselves in to check up on him but -’ 

‘But he might be being a little bit crazy,’ said Nejem with all usual lack of delicacy as they passed his desk. ‘Please fix our boss.’ 

Selena squared her shoulders as she followed Lowsley to Matt’s office. She’d known they needed to talk. She’d considered giving him a few days to cool, and a few days for more news to come from South Africa or Baffin Island so they weren’t worrying about _them_ when they feared for their friends. But it seemed circumstances, or upset researchers, were forcing her hand. ‘I’m not talking through a door,’ she decided at last. 

‘You can open it up,’ Lowsley assured her. ‘Just he’ll kick anyone else _out_.’ 

‘Fine. Get me a coffee.’ If anything was going to lure Matt out of his cave, it was coffee. She waited until Lowsley had given her a steaming mug before she went to the door and rapped sharply. ‘Matt? It’s Selena. I’m coming in.’ 

There was no answer, so she stepped inside to a bomb-site. Or that was what Matt’s office now resembled; the lights were dim, the notes on the wall had been ripped down, and the desk and floor were a scattered mess of files and papers. Matt himself was sat on his chair, glaring at the bare wall, and didn’t react as she shut the door behind her. 

‘When I called myself the cheerleader for smart men trying to save the world,’ she snapped, and he did jolt at her voice, even if he didn’t look up yet, ‘I was _kidding_.’ 

Matt dragged his gaze across the floor, through the dim lighting and up to her, and only now did she see what a state he was in, hair wild, face pale, like he’d been dragged through a frozen hedge. ‘I didn’t - why’re you here?’ 

‘Because you’re scaring the hell out of your staffers by hiding in here like a _cave troll_. And they probably heard you trash everything. Why’re you trashing everything?’ 

He looked away at once. ‘It seemed like the thing to do.’ 

Selena drew a sharp, tense breath. ‘Matt, I am _trying_ to be sympathetic here, I am trying to be supportive, but you have to _let_ me, and I don’t -’ Then her throat tightened before she could stop it, and when she continued it was with an inadvertent dose of hysteria. ‘I don’t know how to _chase_ you!’ 

_That_ made him start, and he stood. ‘ _Chase_ me? I don’t -’ 

‘You say you want to be with me, then we go to dinner together and you _bail_ right after? And you’re awkward and distant in Winchester, and you’re awkward and distant after we _almost die_ , and then you _trash_ everything - we’re _meant to be a team and I can_ _’t keep doing this_!’ For a meeting which was meant to be about saving him, they were rapidly sharing burdens. 

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Matt grated. ‘Maybe you’re -’ 

‘I _swear_ I will hex the shit out of you if you fall into that self-pitying _bullshit_ , Matt, I don’t…’ Her eyes dragged over him, and only then did she see he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic, his right arm ending in a sleeve and a stump. ‘Where’s your hand?’ 

‘It’s…’ His voice trailed off, but she followed his eyes to a dent in the wall, and to the metal hand on the floor beneath. 

‘Are you practicing punching at range?’ Guarded now, she padded over and reached for the prosthetic, cold and heavy and metal. 

‘Something like that.’ She could hear him swallow in the tense silence. ‘I - I came back here when we got out of the DMLE, except I knocked over my fucking coffee with the clumsy fucking…’ 

_And then you wrecked the place?_ Or that was what she wanted to say, laden with biting sarcasm, but his voice quavered so badly she realised she had to look deeper. When she glanced over, she saw how he stared at the prosthetic in her hands, saw how much he’d shrunk as she picked it up, and final pieces slotted into place. 

‘You’re not okay with this,’ Selena whispered, and felt like an idiot. Of course he wasn’t okay with losing a hand. 

‘I don’t -’ Matt closed his eyes. ‘I used to be able to put my money where my mouth was, come up with a plan or a lead and then _chase_ it, act on it, but then - we went to Winchester and maybe a month ago I’d have still been taken by surprise like that. But then I’d have _shaken the Stun off_ , I’d have - I’d have got back up, and I wouldn’t have to - _you_ wouldn’t have to -’ 

‘Save myself?’ 

‘You did, and that was badass, and you’re brilliant and I adore that but -’ He took a stumbling step forwards, expression crumpling. ‘You almost got hurt again, or taken again, and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t do anything, and I know that should be about _you_ , but I…’ Matt drew a raking breath, like he was scrabbling for strength from the air itself. ‘I lost my hand to save you, and that is a price I’d pay a hundred times over, but _then_ that meant I almost lost you _again_ …’ 

_And that would rather suck. Lose your hand to save the girl, then lose her later because without a hand you can_ _’t save her._ She knew he wasn’t thinking about it only in those terms, but Selena recognised a bad deal when she saw one. All she could find as reassurance, though, was a throaty, ‘I don’t think less of you for it.’ 

‘No,’ he sighed. ‘You think less of me for being so fixated on getting this research done I become a bit of an arse. But I - I can’t fight like I used to, I can’t even pull a day’s _work_ like I used to without getting exhausted, so the _least_ I can do is try to fix this, read everything, see this job through…’ 

‘Who’re you trying to prove yourself to, Matt?’ Brow furrowing, she padded towards him. 

‘I need to do it for me. To still be - to still be _something_!’ He went to toss both hands in the air, but of course he could only gesture with one, and his expression contorted into something ugly when he saw his stump. ‘To try to be _complete_ , not this this fucking _cripple_ -’ 

‘Matt!’ 

‘And I wanted to kiss you the other night, kiss you properly, but then I was reaching for you with that ugly - that _thing_!’ He pointed at the prosthetic in her hands like it might have been a dead rat. ‘And I don’t want to be less-than for the world, less-than for myself, less-than for _you_!’ 

‘So you wrecked your office?’ she asked, and hated that she sounded a little sardonic, because it was always safer to be off-beat, disconnected, but it didn’t help either of them much. 

His shoulders slumped, anger fading for self-loathing. ‘I was angry,’ he croaked. ‘And then I felt like a fucking idiot so I didn’t come out and _no_ , I _didn_ _’t_ have a plan for what came next after sitting in the dark on my own like a _tit_ …’ 

Selena looked down at the hand, and realised she held his every hatred and fear in a very literal sense. _I suppose we_ _’ll always be chasing._   
  
‘I figured out,’ she said in a low, awkward voice, ‘why you and I work well together, _when_ we work well together. We’re honest. Do you know why that started?’ He shook his head. ‘Because when we met, we didn’t care what the other thought. I was hung up on Methuselah, you were hung up on Rose, and so we didn’t _care_ if we were pathetic or arsey at each other. We revealed ourselves, warts and all, and that was why we formed a connection. The stupid thing,’ she continued, and had to fight back a bitter laugh, ‘is that when we formed a connection by not caring, we suddenly _cared_. So we stopped being so honest. Because we were then afraid we’d think badly of each other. Isn’t that ridiculous? Being close is what destroyed what _made_ us close.’ 

He winced. ‘Destroyed?’ 

Selena looked down. ‘It would be wrong for me to say I don’t care about this,’ she said, turning the prosthetic over in her hands. ‘You were injured _for me_. Of course I _care_. But I don’t - how the _hell_ could I think less of you for it, Matt?’ 

‘You don’t _owe_ me your feelings, you _know_ that’s not how it works -’ 

‘No, it’s not,’ she said, padding over. ‘And I’m not here because I owe you, I’m here because - maybe you are physically “less,” and that’s horrible and I’m sorry and I don’t know what to do or say. Except that I didn’t fall for you because of your right hand, or your loopy handwriting, or even for swishing that bloody sword around; _everything_ I wanted from you is still _there_ , still _you_ …’ 

He froze as she drew close, didn’t resist as she reached for his right arm and lifted it to slip the prosthetic back into place. She kept her touch delicate, gentle as she buckled it up, and once the connection was made, once she saw him flex the prosthetic’s fingers, she didn’t let go. 

‘You are not less-than for having this,’ Selena murmured, running her fingers over the engravings which gave the living steel power, the markings of magic and the contours of the hand, and she could feel him twitch underneath. By now it was bonded enough to him that it picked up on the subtleties of his thought, reacted much more like flesh and blood, and even through this arcane construct of metal, she could feel how nervous he was. ‘This is still _you_.’ 

She lifted the prosthetic as she bowed her head, kissed the metal knuckles and found it already warmer than she’d expected, already more of a genuine part of him than she’d thought. The twitch under her lips might as well have been flesh for all its sensitivity, and she couldn’t fight the curl of a smile. 

‘You were amazing yesterday,’ Matt croaked. ‘I wouldn’t have thought of that trick with the book.’ She looked up to see him swallow hard, and tightened her grip on his hand. ‘I _was_ furious at myself when it was over, but I also wanted to kiss you silly and that kind of made it worse. Because wanting you when I’m a physical wreck makes me feel like _more_ of a failure, and I’m not trying to indulge in self-pitying here but I need you to - to understand -’ He stopped, expression contorting, knowing his explanations did sound a _lot_ like pity. 

Selena kept the smile. ‘I understand,’ she assured him, because she did, even if her heart thudded in her chest at the thought he might pull away again, even if she wondered how she’d reach for him again. 

‘No,’ Matt said, but his voice held more strength, more sincerity. ‘You don’t, because I can’t _really_ explain how badly I want you - oh, _hell_ with it -’ 

Thus did a practical demonstration prove far more adept at expressing a concept. And while she had to cling to his prosthetic hand so he didn’t pull it away, it was the only urging he required. Apprehension faded, self-loathing faded, and then she was tumbled in his arms, kissed with need, kissed with fire, kissed as if to defy all the frustrations and barricades they’d found and made for themselves. 

If there was one thing Selena knew, in all the rushing chaos she was only too-happy to let sweep them both away, it was that this was an embrace she did not need to _chase_.

* * 

_A slash of the wand. Jorgen_ _’s scream. Bolting across the ice, leaving the big man behind to claw at the ground, a helpless sacrifice. Corpses colder and whiter than the frozen wastes bearing down on him, drawn by the victim, his weakness, his blood -_   
  
_Blood on the snow_ _…_   
  
_\- Albus pinning Downing to the ground. The smug smiles of Methuselah and Selena -_   
  
_\- I_ _’m the best at this -_   
  
_Blood on the snow_ _…_   
  
_\- Rose, a crumbled bundle of red against white, felled by the slashing charm aimed for **him** -_   
  
_Blood on the snow_ _…_   
  
‘Scorpius!’ 

His eyes snapped open as his insides blazed against the frost in his mind. Air burned in his lungs, useless with every breath, and so he gasped more, tearing his throat, clawing at the blankets that now smothered, not sheltered him. 

Spinks, falling. Holga, writhing under his blades, Jorgen, screaming as he was sacrificed, _condemned_ \- 

‘Scorpius, you’re alright - look at me, Scorp, focus on me…’ She soared before his swimming vision, a discordant medley of judgement and salvation, and her touch, too, burned because it couldn’t last. Shouldn’t last; he shouldn’t _let_ it last, or he’d condemn himself. His body only betrayed him more by clutching at her, lips trying to form her name, blazing breath denying him words. 

But she slid closer across the bunk and he knew he should recoil from the fleeting presence - 

\- but _he_ was fleeting, too, mortal, so very mortal - 

‘Focus on me, and breathe, _slowly_. Draw it in… and hold it a beat, just a beat, okay? Then out. With me, okay?’ 

Breathing. That was one thing he could do and not feel guilty - or, not let the guilt get the better of him. He let his gaze meet hers, let himself inhale in time with her, every breath matched, within moments every heartbeat matching as the thudding within him slowed. 

He didn’t know how long they sat there, her arms around him like a shroud, his body a crumpled bundle against the demons from his sleep, but Rose stayed silent, let him be the one to act first, speak first. When he did, his voice didn’t sound like his own. ‘I didn’t _want_ to be this,’ he croaked. 

She leaned in, kissed the side of his head like she’d done a thousand times before, like they were bundled on that ship they’d crossed the Atlantic in, on that train they’d crossed Europe in, nesting against the world. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, we can change what we are.’ 

‘I didn’t think. I saw a way to save you and I took it. Because _I_ _’m_ doomed, so what the hell does it matter if I do fucked up things so long as everyone else is alright, so long as _you_ _’re_ …’ 

Her arm tightened around him, fingers curling in his hair as she held him close. ‘It matters.’ 

Truth thudded into him like a body blow, and he buckled. ‘If it matters, then I’m a murderer -’ 

‘Scorpius -’ 

‘Blood had to be on someone’s hands, so why not mine, the hands that’ll be gone soon - why make someone else have to live with it when I won’t -’ 

‘You don’t need to take a _burden_ like that -’ 

‘Someone has to…’ But the words made his tongue feel thicker, clumsier, because while they were true they were not the whole truth. They were the nobler truth, filthy though they were. ‘…and it meant I had to _care_ less…’ 

‘And caring,’ Rose whispered, voice rising with realisation, ‘is close to hope, is close to fear.’ 

‘Let the man who’ll die become the monster,’ Scorpius rumbled, ‘because the monster doesn’t fear death, because the monster doesn’t _care_.’ 

Her hold on him tightened. ‘You know you care. More than any of us, you _cared_ during Phlegethon -’ 

‘I was a kid -’ 

‘Scorpius, that was barely a year ago for you. You are not a monster, you _cannot_ be a monster, because I look at you now - yes, even after yesterday - and I see too muchof _you_ still there. Still _here_.’ His gaze dragged up to meet hers, dark and ardent, and her hand slid to his collar, stopping him from drawing away. ‘You’re still here. You’re still alive.’ 

He could hear the plea in her urging, and it would have been so easy to let go. To let his hands slide up her arms, to cup her face and hold and behold her like a flickering flame that was his one light in the dark. To lean in, their breath entwined, their warmth entwined - 

But the monster wasn’t gone, and grumbled a warning to look to the ice. 

Scorpius tensed, and he felt her hope break in his hands. ‘We’ve stopped.’ 

Rose’s gaze dropped, but then she slid from him and all was as it had been these past weeks. ‘That was why I came to wake you before - anyway. We’ve arrived.’ 

He blinked, owlish as reality rushed in at the edges. ‘You’re sure?’ 

Sympathy and apprehension fled her gaze for that arch superiority. ‘ _Yes_ , I’m sure. I’ve read Cassian’s notes, too. And - well, come see for yourself.’ 

He threw his layers, coats and gloves and hat, back on in a hurry and followed her out of the hatch to emerge atop the sleigh’s cabin. 

If possible, they had entered deeper darkness. Cassian’s map and notes had indicated a valley, a deep trench within the ice and cliffs, and even starlight struggled to claw its way to these depths. The Ice Elks hoofed at the ground; they had not tired at a day’s heavy march, they had barely balked at Inferi, but now they seemed unsettled, apprehensive. 

Rose jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘We went through some magical wards about a mile back. They read a lot like anti-Muggle charms but… more powerful, entrenched in the _ground_. And I think they affected me; the Elk tried to go off-course until I corrected them.’ He saw her grimace in the gloom. ‘It’s possible that anyone not _really_ focusing on their destination would get diverted. Muggle _or_ wizard.’ 

‘So you can only find this place if you know to look for it,’ Scorpius breathed, eyes sweeping over the walls of the trench. ‘The question is, where _is_ it?’ 

‘The good news is that we’re definitely in a magic area. The bad news is that _everywhere_ is magic; I can’t get a more narrow focus.’ 

‘Well.’ He hopped off the front bench and landed on the ground with a crunch of snow. ‘We weren’t going to find the end of the world in just a day.’ 

‘Technically we’re following a _lifetime_ of work of Cassian Malfoy.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius peered at the jagged rocks and surging ice, and wondered if they wanted to go deeper through the valley, or if the walls of the chasm held some answer for them. ‘Unfortunately, he’s dead. He’s not much use.’ 

‘Excuse me,’ came a familiar voice on the wind, ‘I resemble that remark.’ 

He recognised the translucent figure who emerged from the darkness, because he’d seen Cassian Malfoy’s painting. But he recognised the voice from far longer ago, from a place beyond true voices or true words or even true people, from a climb out of an ocean of feeling into a harsh bright light of _being_ \- 

‘Cassian.’ 

The ghost of Cassian Malfoy stood unbent by the frozen wind, unperturbed by the icy chill, dressed like any wizarding dandy of the last hundred years. Every inch of him refined in garb and stance, not even his shimmering hair was distressed by their environment. He slid from what looked like a crack in the rock wall and was then before them, hands clasped in front of him, gleaming silvery eyes bright. ‘I was wondering if you were coming.’ 

‘Oh no,’ Rose groaned. ‘I don’t need two Malfoy black sheep to be sardonic at me.’ 

‘In my defence,’ Scorpius said to the ghost, ‘you’re not an easy man to find.’ 

‘You’ve come _back from the dead_ , dear boy, I didn’t think meagre things like _difficulty_ would thwart you.’ He looked them up and down. ‘You found my diary?’ 

‘The diary wasn’t hard to find. Bachelet had it. Your _powder_ , on the other hand… you hid that from her?’ 

He looked pained. ‘I didn’t want to draw her back into this. The war was over, and _she_ still had a whole country that needed rebuilding. France was - but that was another lifetime ago.’ 

Scorpius swallowed. ‘Several. But you found Ultima Thule?’ 

‘I did.’ 

‘What _is_ Ultima Thule?’ Rose pressed. ‘All we’ve seen are references in your diary and your old operation records talking about ancient wizarding settlements and ruins, places Raskoph wanted - what’s all this _about_?’ 

Cassian looked at her. They didn’t, Scorpius thought now he was face-to-face with what remained of the man at last, look that much alike after all. They both had that Malfoy nose and, he thought, those Malfoy eyes, but there was a more willowy, aristocratic, _pointy_ look to Cassian. Scorpius had inherited enough of his mother’s looks to round off the sheer sharpness of his father’s line, something for which he’d always been grateful. But there was no denying the long-suffering whimsy to both their voices. 

‘You’re asking,’ Cassian sighed, ‘for me to summarise whole slews of wizarding history. I might be dead but I don’t have _forever_ , and you certainly don’t -’ 

‘You died for this, and Raskoph is _still_ around, _still_ a danger and he _still_ cares about this,’ Rose said. ‘The least you can do is offer the cliff-notes.’ 

Cassian glanced at Scorpius. ‘Demanding, isn’t she?’ he said, then saved Scorpius having to find some diplomatic answer by continuing. ‘Humanity has been around for far longer than Muggle recorded history. Even than _our_ recorded history. But why would witches and wizards _all_ live nomadic lives in tents and shacks and caves for centuries when they had magic? Of course, some lived alongside the Muggles, because in plenty of cultures, there was no distinction. But magic is _power_. So long as some men have had power and others haven’t, there’s been division.’ 

‘Magical civilisations from six thousand, seven thousand years ago,’ Rose said. 

Cassian nodded. ‘Cloistered, secluded. In a time when magic was wilder, more powerful, so they could build their homes, solid and far from the Muggles, and still the world was theirs to cross in the blink of an eye. But they weren’t a complete secret, because they didn’t care to be. And so there are stories, for wizards as well as for Muggles, and you’ll have heard of them. Atlantis, Cantref Gwaelod, Shambhala, what the Spanish called El Dorado - I’m not saying all of those are true places, but wizards and Muggles didn’t just invent these mysterious cities of ancient power and magic out of thin air.’ 

‘What happened to them?’ 

‘I’m not sure. They never much left their own records. And when they fell, they fell so thoroughly, and so long ago, it’s hard to know anything for certain.’ Cassian shrugged. ‘I think Muggles rose to greater splendour and the world became smaller and more and more witches and wizards lived amongst them. Maybe there was fighting, the wizards who lived with the Muggles finally bringing them down in the very first war of magical supremacy. Maybe time just turned them to dust.’ 

‘But you started to look into them. During the war.’ 

‘The Thule Society started to look into them. Tibet, Norway, Russia. We just scrambled under the principle of, “if the Thule Society want it, don’t let them have it.” And most of them were grave robbers, finding what little magic knick-knacks they could in some old ruins and running off cackling with it. Except Raskoph.’ 

‘What made him different?’ 

‘He knew there was more to it than petty looting. He was involved since the early days, since the Ahnenerbe went to Tibet, and I don’t know what he found there, but it made him convinced there was _real_ power to be found, magic the likes of which doesn’t exist any more, _can_ _’t_ exist any more. All I was, at first, was the poor sap sent to fight him, stop him. And I did, more often than he got away, but as he learnt more, so did I. Of all these places, of all this ancient magic. Some of my superiors thought I was crazy, but if it meant thwarting the Thule Society, I was given free rein.’ 

‘And then after the war they stopped caring.’ Rose frowned. 

Cassian shrugged. ‘One lone lunatic former Thule Society wizard convinced he could find the sister-cities of Atlantis wasn’t considered a priority. But I knew he’d been putting pieces together, place to place, so he could find his ultimate prize: Ultima Thule.’ 

‘What makes this place so different? If he found things at Amsvartnir, under Svetloyar, why was finding Ultima Thule so much worse?’ Scorpius said. 

‘You don’t get many people living up here, do you.’ Cassian’s lips curled. ‘And you got even fewer six thousand years ago. Making it the best place to hide everything you don’t want those non-magical “lesser” beings to find. Every great artifact which needs containing, every spell you want hidden until it’s needed, every monstrosity you can’t un-make. Ultima Thule wasn’t a city or a land or somewhere people lived. But it was appropriate for modern magical supremacists to imagine it as a perfect world, a perfect society, because it is the repository of the weapons of the _first_ magical supremacists. Myths speak of Ultima Thule as the end of the world. That wasn’t about geography.’ 

‘The Stygian Plagues,’ Rose groaned. ‘He really did find references to them in other cities and ruins, but he wanted Ultima Thule to get the _real_ thing.’ 

‘And that’s why it’s taken the slow-acting Phlegethon, the limited Eridanos; that’s why Lethe relies on a different power-source,’ Scorpius said with blossoming horror. ‘It’s taken flawed experiments and even after eighty years, it’s imperfect.’ He looked up at Cassian. ‘But how? If he knew about this place, if he _found_ Ultima Thule, how come he’s never broken in?’ 

‘Not for want of trying. But let me stop explaining, and start showing.’ Cassian’s ghost stepped back, and for a heartbeat Scorpius thought he’d disappeared into the darkness. But then he could see the shimmering light leading them further down the frozen valley with its icy, craggy walls, and without thinking he followed. 

‘We both pieced together the location of Ultima Thule, especially after Amsvartnir. The records from the old settlement there were pretty good, but even better, Viking wizards from the ninth century or so had _also_ gone looking for Ultima Thule. They made it as far as Helluby, but knowing which island to start on was incredibly valuable,’ came Cassian’s voice through the chilly darkness, and then he veered left towards the ice wall, leading them to a narrow path that wound upwards against the cliff-face Scorpius knew he’d have never seen on his own. ‘I knew he’d come here, so I tried to beat him to it. Worst of all, he’d picked up something long ago that I _hadn_ _’t_ : a keystone to get past the protections. He found it in the Thirties in an old dig-site in Egypt, and hung onto it until he knew what it _was_. And I did beat him here, but not by much, and not with enough time to _do_ anything to the millennia-old wards and caverns.’ 

Cassian was talking and wandering as if he were on a casual walk on a summer’s day, while Scorpius and Rose found themselves inching along the narrow, frozen path as it wound higher and higher against the cliff wall, clinging to rock to not slip and meet a long, undignified death. 

‘So we fought. No more backup, because we were both crackpots with our allies broken by victory and by defeat. And I was reminded, not for the first time, that he was a better fighter than me, and I didn’t have any reinforcements or clever tricks to save me. And I thought, if I don’t win, this man might just try to _end the world_. Of course, I was wrong.’ Cassian gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘I didn’t need to _win_. I just needed to stop him.’ 

Scorpius felt his chest tighten, and he didn’t know if it was from the fresh inhale of an icy wind that tried to steal his breath as they climbed. ‘What did you do?’ 

‘I got the keystone off him. And I destroyed it,’ said Cassian in a matter-of-fact manner, rising through the whipping, frosted breeze. ‘Of course, destroying a magical artifact thousands of years old, even if it _was_ mostly just a lump of rock? That takes standing still long enough for a man like Raskoph to get a Killing Curse off. But it _worked_.’ 

‘You let him kill you,’ said Rose, voice hushed, ‘to stop him?’ 

‘Not really,’ Cassian said breezily. ‘He was going to kill me anyway. I just made sure he did it on my terms.’ 

‘Then how come,’ said Scorpius, setting his feet harder into the frozen ground as the incline got steeper, ‘how come you’re still here? Ghosts have deaths they never made peace with -’ 

‘Or unfinished business. So long as Raskoph lives, I have unfinished business. So I’ve waited here, for eighty years, in case he was going to have another crack at it.’ Then all of a sudden they weren’t pressed against the rock but stepping out onto a shelf against the cliff, a wide and frozen plateau where the wind whipped less harshly, where the ground was more solid and less icy underfoot. 

Set into the cliff wall itself was a huge pair of stone doors, carved and solid and frozen over. And at the foot of them lay a crumpled bundle of ice and snow and bone. 

Cassian Malfoy’s ghost crunched towards his body. ‘See?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The temptation to list_ _‘R’lyeh’ amongst the lost cities Cassian mentioned was almost overwhelming, but I resisted. There is no Lovecraft here._


	37. Wonders Ye Have Done

Sunlight clawed through a gap in the curtains to land directly on Selena’s face, but when she rolled over to escape it she found herself in the empty, warm hollow in the bed left by Matt’s body. 

That did a better job of waking her up, and she raised her head to peer about the gloomy bedroom. She was alone. 

She had not been much in the business of paying attention to her surroundings last night, but in the glint of morning she was grateful for how fastidious Rose had been in packing. Had Selena not known what to look for, there would be no indication another woman once lived in this flat. As it was, she could only identify Rose’s departure by the absences, the space Matt would surely have taken up. It was still a little jarring, still enough to catch in her throat. 

Had that been too much for him to wake up to? 

She slid from the bed and, refusing to pull on her old clothes because that felt too much like _leaving_ , helped herself to his drawers to find a shirt that could play over-sized nightdress. 

He was not, as she’d feared, out of bed to brood, but out of bed to _read_. She found him in the living room, leaning over the papers strewn across the coffee table. From the warmth and glint of emerald from the Floo, she suspected these were a recent delivery. Geniuses, Selena remembered with a sigh, never wanted to sleep. 

But she smiled as she slipped up behind him, didn’t have to force amusement into her voice when she slid her hands over his shoulders. ‘You started early.’ 

Tension only flickered in him for a heartbeat, then he leaned back and craned his neck to smile up at her. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ 

‘And there was urgent historying to do?’ 

‘Fifth century AD is a fast-changing world.’ The corner of his lip curled more. ‘Lowsley sent some preliminaries, that’s all.’ 

‘You don’t have to flit off on an investigative emergency?’ 

‘It’s nothing conclusive and it’s still very _Welsh_.’ 

She kissed the tip of his nose and stood. ‘Then I’ll put the coffee machine on.’ 

‘You don’t like coffee that much,’ he said, eyes following her as she padded for the kitchenette. 

‘I don’t mind it, but I’ll adapt.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I suspect there’s going to be a lot of coffee in my future.’ 

His beam in response was the stupidest and best smile she’d ever seen from him. So for an added bonus she lowered herself to rummage through his fridge and scrounge together the ingredients for omelets. 

‘You’d best not get used to this,’ Selena said when she finally plonked herself next to him with plates of breakfast and steaming mugs. 

The smile, if anything, broadened, and Matt leaned in for a quick kiss. ‘It’s brilliant. Thank you.’ 

‘You may not thank me once you’ve tasted my cooking. If you wanted cooking, you should have seduced Albus.’ 

He reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze, and she tried to not react when he did so with his prosthetic. It was warm, a more supple limb than the name ‘living steel’ would suggest, so her surprise came not from discomfort. But he had acted without thinking, and not checked himself. Maybe this was what growth was like. She sipped her coffee. ‘So what’s Lowsley found?’ 

‘Stories we’re trying to make sense of.’ Matt ran a hand through his mop of hair. ‘If it weren’t for the illuminated pages I think we’d be pawing through the Black Book for _years_ , but it’s helped narrow it down. The pages there talk about the power conflict between King Gwerthefyr of Dyfed, who may or may not be Saint Vortimer, and the Kingdom of Cantref Gwaelod. Which is interesting.’ 

‘Assume,’ Selena said, ‘that my only conclusion from these names is “everything is Welsh.”’ 

He grinned more than the remark deserved. ‘Well, everything _is_. But Cantref Gwaelod is one of those Welsh myths, lost cities beneath the waves, that kind of thing.’ 

‘So what connects this to the Chalice?’ 

‘I’m getting to it.’ He sipped his coffee for, she suspected, dramatic effect, but his eyes were dancing at getting to weave this story. ‘The writing is mostly from the point of view of wizards sworn to Gwerthefyr, _but_ there’s some rumination on the nature of Cantref Gwaelod. Apparently it had its own internal conflicts, a tension between the ruler Gwyddno Garanhir and one of the princes, Seithenyn.’ 

‘Tension about having a magic cup?’ 

‘Muggle myths blame Cantref Gwaelod’s sinking beneath the waves on Seithenyn. The story goes that he was a drunken carouser responsible for the sea-defences, and failed his duties and so the whole city sank. _This_ story is painting a subtly different picture.’ Matt tapped Lowsley’s translations. ‘It’s implying Seithenyn and his followers were adherents and worshippers of Arawn, King of the Otherworld, at a time when Christianity was on the rise even for wizards of the time.’ 

‘Worshippers of a sort-of God of Death. A lost city of ancient myth and magic. And those stupid swirly patterns on the text.’ Selena nodded. ‘It sounds like a Lead.’ 

‘It does,’ Matt agreed. ‘There’s more for Lowsley to go through, and I’m getting them to go through any other records they can find on Seithenyn and Cantref Gwaelod. I know Hogwarts has a copy of the Book of Taliesin I’ve sent a request for.’ 

‘But it’s all still very Welsh?’ 

‘It is.’ He put down the parchments. ‘Which means there’s precious little I can do.’ 

‘You could enjoy your omelet.’ She nudged the plate closer. 

He grinned and picked it up. ‘I _could_. Thank you.’ 

She was trying to summon just the right wry comment about domestication or _not_ rushing around to save the world when there was a tap on the window, and Selena knew the sound of a beak on glass. ‘Post,’ she sighed, and got to her feet. It was a nice feeling, while Matt was working, to get the little odds and ends done around him. She knew that desire wouldn’t last, so she might as well enjoy it for now. 

It was a _Daily Prophet_ owl, the newspaper clutched between its talons, so she let it flit inside to help itself to water and food before it swept off on its rounds. Only once she’d closed the window behind it, mindful of December creeping into Cambridge, did she unroll the paper and read the headline. 

And froze. ‘Holy shit,’ Selena breathed. ‘My mother’s gone and arrested the _entirety_ of Minister Halvard’s staff on charges of treason and corruption. He’s stepped down and handed authority in Britain to her and the IMC.’ 

Matt shot up from his chair. ‘ _What_?’ 

‘There’s apparently been a huge covert investigation into how close any of them are to the Council of Thorns, but the theory is, _very_ , and for _years_.’ She looked up, eyes widening, heart thudding in her chest. ‘And your father and my boss have been released.’ 

Delight kaleidoscoped with apprehension across his face, a shifting mural of conflicting and bewildering emotions. But it was he who first asked the pressing question, the one which was still getting the better of her. ‘Why are you not happier about this?’ 

Selena swallowed. ‘Because my mother’s just proven how powerful she is. Because the government in Britain has been fucked up for a long time without us noticing.’ She looked down at the paper, and the reference to the extensive cooperation provided to the investigation by one Amadeus Candlestone. ‘Because I think I might have made this happen.’ 

Except _she_ hadn’t mentioned Amadeus Candlestone to _anyone_.

* * 

‘If we wait here,’ Pretorius had told Eva, ‘we’re going to be fish in a barrel and we’ll die. The Inferi will be here in _minutes_.’ 

‘So don’t be here,’ Eva had replied, making for the stairs. ‘We’ll slip by them.’ 

‘ _How_ am I supposed to hide thirty-one people, including four prisoners?’ 

‘It’s easy.’ She’d stopped halfway down the corridor and pointed at the lift doors. ‘Inferi are terrible with ladders.’ 

They hadn’t considered the lift shaft before because getting out through the doors would be impossible if the Thornweavers were paying the slightest attention; hanging off a ladder in an open doorway was the least defensible position Eva could imagine. Even now, getting thirty-one people up an emergency ladder was a serious problem.. But it was not, she thought with relief as she let herself into the stairwell, _her_ problem. 

Her problem was how to march through an oncoming swarm of Inferi, alone save her wand and her sword. But she _was_ alone, and she much preferred it this way. There was nobody else’s back to watch, no complicated questions to ask, and Albus was dead. 

She had nothing to lose. 

_If you mess up, thirty-one people are going to die._   
  
It was very hard to care about that. 

She’d told Pretorius she’d deal with the stairwell and then clear Magical Transportation. Two Thornweavers had been on the floor above, potential lookouts she hadn’t given the time to raise any alarm. One had been sent flying into the other before they could yelp, and both Stunned and trussed up within seconds. But this couldn’t be all that was to come. Geiger hadn’t been lying; she was only another flight of stairs up before she heard the thudding footsteps, lighter and swifter than a person’s. The gathering storm, the wave of white death. 

Wizards didn’t fight like that. They preserved life where they could, if only their own. They preferred swift strikes and careful planning, and so wizards were used to _defending_ against that. It was one of the many tactical advantages the Council held in using Inferi. They could send these undead soldiers against the enemy in a mad wave which would surely suffer terrible losses, but so long as they won the battle that didn’t matter. And their opponents were never prepared. 

_Except this time._   
  
Her insides had been carved up by Geiger’s Killing Curse, just as surely as if the spell had struck her. She could have died, had she chosen, but her work wasn’t yet done, and so she clung on. She let herself be cleaved in half, and threw the weak half, the half that wanted to curl up and weep and surrender, into the darkest, blackest pit of herself. 

The other half was ice-cold rage, and she used that to coat her very bones. 

A white shape rounded the corner and loped down the stairwell, but she felt no surge of fear or dread. Once, that hissing breath, those blackened eyes, the skull-like face, would have tightened her gut into a knot she’d have to fight through. Today, there was nothing. 

And there was only one of them. Others would be heartbeats behind, but she had to wait for those heartbeats. 

It lunged and swiped, she side-stepped, and then the sword was in her hand, slashing across the Inferius’ neck and cutting the hissing snarl short. She’d expected the weapon to be slower, more cumbersome; had assumed Matt’s ease came only from years of practice. But it was a perfectly-designed, perfectly-balanced weapon of death. Eva Saida, being another weapon of death, had to appreciate it. 

The first Inferius hadn’t hit the ground before her wand lashed up the stairs, knocking a second into the small clump behind it. ‘Come on,’ she challenged, voice low, flat. ‘Gather up.’ These were dregs, still, coming in twos and threes, and she needed a dozen, a score. 

Fear was a cage, and Eva had spent a long time being afraid. Afraid of consequences, afraid of death. But death had already come and she still stood. 

So now she was free. 

A gout of flames from her wand consumed one and set another half-alight. Its hiss turned to that inhuman wail as it staggered into another, but the closest still came. Even her swift step back saw its claws scrape her sleeve, but then her sword came up, lopping off that arm. A kick knocked it to the ground, a burst of energy from her wand knocked one on fire into another, and then she could see, through the flames and the ivory and the black ichor of their blood, that the stairwell was filling. 

Eva slammed her elbow into the solar plexus of a charging Inferius. It didn’t have a diaphragm, but it was still knocked back, slashing harmlessly at air. Another was coming, and another, and another, but she sheathed her sword and grabbed onto the railing. _And here we go_. The tip of her wand cracked against a marking on the ground, a pattern she’d left exactly as Pretorius had instructed. It took less than a heartbeat for the magical ritual to flare to life, for energy to crackle across the steps and down, blossoming through the entire stairwell as far down as she’d been able to cover in five minutes. 

It was like standing in a thunderstorm. Stone cracked and shattered around her, above her, and even as the Inferi staggered, all she could do was clutch to this railing like the literal life-line it was. Rocks fell above, below, everywhere, six floors of the stairwell shattering and breaking to pitch the steps down the newly-formed chasm that reached the very bottom of the Department of Magic. 

It had to be fifty feet by now. That was enough even for the twenty Inferi. 

The ground shattered and broke under her and, wand between her teeth, Eva clutched at the railing to not fall and join them. It was a near thing, feet scrabbling against the wall to find some purchase - one Inferius grabbed at her leg until she kicked out, broke its arm and forced it to let go - 

And then she hung there, clinging to a railing in the broken stairwell, a lethal drop beneath her with zombies waiting at the bottom. For two floors above there was only shattered shards of masonry, a climb that was almost sheer in places before the bottom of where the stairs had not been entirely destroyed. 

The ritual was built into the building already, Pretorius had said, for emergencies. Using it sooner had just sounded like a good way to get _really_ trapped underground. And there had been, Pretorius had pointed out, serious risk to anyone trying to enact the ritual. 

‘What do we do,’ the security officer had said as Eva had set off, ‘if you get yourself _killed_ collapsing that stairwell?’ 

Eva had shrugged. ‘Die, I suppose,’ she said, and hadn’t thought anything of it, because if she failed _she_ _’d_ be too dead to care. 

But now she wasn’t dead. Her arms screamed, her breath scraped in her throat, and it was with a supreme effort that she managed to grab her wand, get a levitation off which wouldn’t save her but would make hanging on _easier_. 

‘Come on, Saida,’ she hissed to herself, crawling inch by excruciating inch up the crumbled masonry of the wall of the stairwell. ‘You’re not done yet. You’ve got one job to do yet. Only one job.’ 

And once she’d done it, once she’d killed Erik Geiger, she could rest.

* * 

There was an odd calm to the ice shelf, the wind and chill not tearing at her face as badly as it had on the climb, and Rose could only presume the entrance to Ultima Thule was magically protected against the elements as well as against incursions. She could stand without leaning into the wind, and snow and ice were no longer whipped into her eyes. 

She pulled her scarf down from her mask and looked from the huge stone doors to Cassian Malfoy’s body. ‘I’m amazed there’s anything left of you after eighty years.’ 

‘Thank you,’ drawled Cassian Malfoy’s ghost. ‘I try to look after myself.’ 

If there was magic shelter, there might be some magical containment, Rose reasoned as she hunkered over the body. She was just glad this was a skeleton garbed in the remains of thick, older, hard-wearing clothes, and nothing more… fleshy. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said, and hated that this wasn’t the oddest thing she’d ever done, ‘I’d like to bring your wand back.’ 

‘Oh, not at all. My pocket-watch is still in there. And some of my pointless Alliance security charms.’ 

Rose fished those out, the latter a collection of small runestones she slipped in a pocket to worry about later. A glance over her shoulder showed Cassian was watching Scorpius, though, ghostly eyes dragging across him. 

‘So how _are_ we related, dear boy?’ 

Scorpius pulled his scarf down from his chin. ‘Your brother was my great-grandfather. That makes you my great-great-uncle, I think.’ 

‘Great-great, hm.’ Cassian gave a gentle snort. ‘So Abraxas had a family and was alright in the end.’ 

‘I don’t know. I never met him. Died of dragonpox fifty years ago.’ 

‘And he had children, I take it. In the end.’ 

‘One son. Lucius. Married a Black. But he went to Azkaban after the Second War -’ 

‘The _Second_ War?’ 

Rose sighed and lifted her gaze to the giant doorways. Getting through this would take long enough, she thought, without a history lesson. But this was the most civil conversation she’d ever witnessed Scorpius having with another Malfoy. 

‘Britain had its own Grindelwald in the seventies then again in the nineties. Pureblood supremacy, dark magic, all the good stuff. My grandfather backed him. Twice.’ Scorpius’ voice came out like it was sharpened, the edge very narrow but very precise. 

Cassian’s ghost seemed to fade a little, as did his voice. ‘…and your father?’ 

‘Was a child, and still made worse choices than other children. Now he’s a man, and he helped _Raskoph_ in this new war of his.’ 

There was a pause - then Rose staggered back as Cassian Malfoy’s ghost shot across the cliff shelf to burst out in front of them, a billowing chill of white. ‘And _why are you here_?’ he demanded. 

_He_ _’d thought he could trust family_ , Rose realised, expression twisting, but it was Scorpius who spoke first, Scorpius who advanced on Cassian. ‘ _You_ reached out to _me_!’ 

‘I’m a ghost trapped between worlds, my options are _limited_. I knew you were family, I had _some_ awareness through those who died of the state of the world right now, I knew Raskoph was responsible for a _lot_ of death again. I sensed you were _returning_. I thought if _anything_ I knew could be of use _against_ him, I had to try.’ The ghost looked between them, wild-eyed. ‘But if my family has for _generations_ committed to causes like his, if your father and his father -’ 

‘I am _not_ my father!’ Scorpius’ shout could have brought down the mountains. ‘I _died_ because I stood up against Raskoph, I’m _here_ because yes, you’re right, _someone_ in the Malfoy family has to try to stop _all of this_! Instead of _helping_ it!’ Rose slunk to his side, reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and he slumped. His eyes didn’t leave Cassian’s, and when he spoke again his voice was a low rasp. ‘Before I found out who you really were, I thought I was the only one.’ 

Cassian stared between them, then his gaze flickered and landed on Scorpius. ‘Is the Manor still there?’ 

‘It’s - of course it’s there, bloody place -’ 

‘It’s a fine house,’ said Cassian softly, ‘and it’s been home to generations of Malfoy achievements and ideals -’ 

Scorpius snorted. ‘And what’re _those_ worth, generations after generations of arsehole supremacists -’ 

‘ _I_ wasn’t,’ said Cassian, still gentle. ‘How many more were there we don’t know about? We can’t be all _that_ bad, dear boy, if the line’s provided the world the likes of you and I.’ 

Scorpius fell silent at that, brow furrowed, and Rose knew the best thing to do would be to change the subject. At least until he’d had time to chew over this. 

‘So,’ she said. ‘The doors.’ 

‘Raskoph needed a keystone to get in.’ Scorpius grimaced. ‘I hate to say it, but we could just… turn around. If he’s not got in for the last eighty years, he’s not going to get in now.’ 

‘That leaves us exactly where we started. And hardly illuminated. It doesn’t give us a way to destroy Lethe, it doesn’t even _tell_ us anything else, it doesn’t -’ She tried to stop herself, then there was a surge in her chest and she stopped caring as she straightened. ‘It doesn’t give us a way to keep _you_.’ 

Scorpius took a step back. ‘I didn’t come here for that. I came here to - to know what had happened to Cassian! To try to find _some_ remains of my family, something I could be proud of, and - and I didn’t know what I’d find! But we can’t get in there, and even if we _could_ , why the hell would we want a Stygian Plague in its purest form?’ 

‘To understand it better? To find flaws in Lethe which we can exploit to undo it? And there might be _something_ else in there…’ She rounded on Cassian’s ghost. ‘Do you _know_ what else is in there?’ 

Cassian looked between the two. ‘I have no intention of asking you to breach the boundary. I’ve told you the truth because you’ve sought it -’ 

‘Do you know?’ She recognised Malfoy avoidance when she saw it. 

‘I do.’ The ghost straightened. ‘There is a reason this place was built here specifically, of all the frozen wastelands in the world. Something was found here, something those who built Ultima Thule wanted to claim and contain. Between life and death -’ 

‘We don’t need _another_ Veil,’ said Scorpius. 

‘It’s not a Veil, my dear boy. It is _the_ boundary between worlds. The spring of the river that flows from here to the Otherworld. Known by many names: the Sanzu, Rasa -’ 

‘Styx.’ Rose’s heart lunged into her throat. ‘This is why the plagues are named like that - it’s not just a name, it’s using the magics of the _actual_ river -’ 

‘It would, if Raskoph found it. He hunted it, though, across the world. Along the way he found lesser magics derived from it; samples of its water, objects infused with its power, and from that he tried to create the plague. I saw his fledgling efforts in Russia, but without the actual Styx it’s taken him almost a hundred years to make a true weapon of it.’ 

‘The Styx - if it goes _between_ the worlds, if it’s anything like the mythology, it won’t just be of death; it’ll be of life, too…’ 

Cassian shrugged. ‘I would presume.’ 

She rounded on him. ‘Do you know how to get us in there?’ 

Scorpius stepped forwards, lifting his hands. ‘Hang on - do we need to get in there? Surely it’s safer to leave it locked away?’ 

‘I know how to open these doors,’ said Cassian. ‘And I know how to open them such that they can be _closed_ again. Though the inner chambers may be a little harder to breach.’ 

Rose reached into her pack and pulled out the small satchel she’d found by the wrecked freighter, the explosive runes. ‘I can deal with smaller doors.’ 

Scorpius grabbed her arm. ‘ _Why_? Why are we risking this? Even if the waters are of life, too, we’ve _got_ cures -’ 

She looked up at him, heartbeat now a thudding drum in her chest. ‘I don’t want it to cure Lethe. But if it’s _life_ , Scorpius, maybe I can take some waters, use them a _new anchor_ for you. If it holds _any_ of the same properties as the Chalice, and this would be even _better_ , then maybe I can tether you to it. And when the Chalice leaves the world, it remains. _You_ remain.’ 

He stopped as if the frozen north had finally claimed him, eyes that particular shade of grey she hated. But when he spoke, his voice was a low, desperate croak - hesitant, disbelieving. ‘You… you think you can do that?’ 

Rose swallowed hard. ‘I can’t make any promises,’ she whispered. ‘But this has been my best theory. I just needed something powerful enough to anchor you. This could be it.’ 

To watch his face in that moment was to watch galaxies explode into being and die in a single heartbeat. Hope was something she had nestled so close to her heart, embers she had blown on so gently and held so tightly, that even though it fired through her every fibre it was too deep to stare at directly. But watching Scorpius Malfoy’s eyes now was to see hope’s birth. 

‘There’ll be things to figure out,’ she whispered, and rested her hand atop his, still on her arm. ‘But we get a sample and seal this place away again. Then I’ll find a way, I’ll tether you to it or infuse you with it or _something_ , there’ll be something. And then we can destroy the Chalice safely when Matt finds a way, Scorpius, and Lethe can be destroyed and _you don_ _’t have to die._ ’ She’d thought she was speaking softly because she didn’t want to startle him, but she understood when she uttered the words aloud. The thought was so precious, so fragile, that anything more than a whisper felt like it might shatter the very truth of it. 

He stared at her as if she were the rising sun in this land of endless night, and let his hand drop with just the slightest nod. Trying to not smile, because that felt too brazen, she turned towards the ghost. ‘Cassian, how do we open -’ 

Then Scorpius’ hand was on her arm again, pulling her back, and before she knew anything else he kissed her. If galaxies had born and died in his eyes, universes shattered into creation at his lips on hers, at his arms around her. Even through the thick layers of arctic clothes she clung to him, clung to him like the frozen wind would tear her away forever if she didn’t hold on. 

She had last kissed him in a cell in Ager Sanguinis, and that had burnt on her lips with its hunger and its terror. She had first kissed him just outside the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, and it had sunk into her bones with its anticipation and excitement. This was something else, a new first and a new last, and his embrace hummed through her veins and fizzed through her thoughts until there was nothing else, until _she_ was nothing else. 

Then his lips tore from hers, but he still didn’t let go, and his smile was the sun over ice. ‘You are _brilliant_ …’ 

She knew he’d only reached for her because hope had broken terror, and she knew what a fragile thing she held in her hands, what a desperate thing. ‘I can do this, Scorp. I can fix this, fight for you, _keep_ you; _I will do this_ -’ But before she could reach for him again, punctuate her conviction with a kiss to smother all fear, an intangible throat cleared itself behind her. 

‘Did you, ahem, want me to explain how to open that door?’ 

Rose had dreamt of this kiss, before and after Scorpius’ return. In none of those dreams had she been stood in the frozen end of the world, trying to cheat death. And under absolutely no circumstances was the moment interrupted. So it took her a moment to process Cassian Malfoy’s words, and then Scorpius was smiling that lopsided, sheepish smile as if they really _were_ teenagers interrupted by some relative, and all she wanted to do was stand before Ultima Thule and laugh. 

She didn’t, but she did pull back, heart thudding at the feeling of a blush rising to her cheeks, something so petty and small and _real_ it took her a moment to recognise it. And when she spoke, it was through a smile as stupid as it was broad. ‘Um, go on, Mister Malfoy.’ 

Cassian Malfoy’s ghost gave a theatrical sigh that was much like Scorpius’. ‘Some of us have an afterlife to pass on to. Eventually. Though that’ll probably only happen when _Raskoph_ is dead, and the old bastard is over a hundred and still showing no sign of -’ 

Scorpius’ lips curled. ‘Cassian.’ 

Another sigh. ‘The keystone he dug up in Egypt was probably from here. I don’t know how it got to Egypt. But I do know that it _was_ tampered with over the thousands of years between its creation, and Raskoph finding it. Tampered with by the Jewish slaves, I’d wager, considering it had Hebrew writing on it. Raskoph, being Raskoph, assumed that the writing was irrelevant, because how would Hebrew writing relate to a lock that was sealed before the language even existed?’ Cassian rolled his ghostly eyes. ‘It’s not as if the wizards would pass such a thing down through generations, and then _mark_ it so that someone remembered what mattered. The keystone would have worked for Raskoph; if he’d set it in the door and imbued it with magic, it would have opened. But if you have the right words and magic it’ll open, too. And those words were recorded on the keystone. If Raskoph hadn’t underestimated those he wanted to eradicate, he might have realised this.’ 

Rose’s expression turned more serious as she listened. ‘What were the words?’ 

‘The real pass-phrase. Because the real way to get in isn’t a rock, it’s magic, and it’s the oldest magic of all. The first spell.’ 

An excitement _almost_ as good as kissing Scorpius surged in her gut. ‘The _first_ spell?’ 

Cassian’s lips curled, much like Scorpius’ might when he had a particularly good secret. ‘You’re going to find this very underwhelming, I’m afraid.’ 

‘I’m sure I _won_ _’t_ -’ 

‘The first words. The first spell. The first magic. It’s the same for so many cultures across the world; some things are true no matter where you’re from. Not _everywhere_ , so who knows what the real truth is… but it was as true for the people who built Ultima Thule as it was for the Jews who inscribed the pass-phrase on the keystone: _Yehi-or._ ’ 

Rose frowned. ‘What?’ 

‘Before there was anything, there was darkness. So what was the first spell?’ Cassian’s smile turned sober. ‘ _Let there be light._ ’ 

Scorpius snorted. ‘Are you telling me we can get into Ultima Thule with a _Lumos_?’ 

Even for a ghost, Cassian looked a bit put-out by this reaction. ‘With your wand in the exact right lock, yes. Remember, this place was made by people who hated those who couldn’t _use_ magic. What better way to lock their secrets away than to require magic to get in? The keystone came later.’ 

Rose squeezed Scorpius’ hand and approached the giant stone doors. ‘Let’s get this done, then,’ she said, pulling her wand. 

‘There’s a nook right there,’ Cassian instructed, though she had to scrape away the ice to find it. ‘You just press your wand into the gap and then you have it. I believe.’ 

‘You _believe_?’ Scorpius said. 

‘I didn’t, believe it or not, actually _try_ this. So you only have my best guess.’ 

While her heart thudded in her throat, Scorpius actually laughed. ‘If this doesn’t work, it’s going to be just fucking typical, isn’t it.’ 

She didn’t answer, because she didn’t dare. Just pressed her wand-tip to the nook in the carved stone, tightened her grip, and whispered it. The first spell _she_ _’d_ ever whispered, in a Charms classroom at Hogwarts, from her First Book of Spells, sat next to Hestia Kirke because Albus had _abandoned_ her for the Malfoy boy, two rows back - 

_Lumos._   
  
_Let There Be Light._   
  
Stone strained against ice thousands of years old and shattered it as the doors scraped their way open. The ground rumbled, the cliff-face rumbled, the very air itself reverberated with the might and magic of the entrance to Ultima Thule shuddering into being. 

Scorpius was on one side of her, Cassian’s ghost on the other, and it was Cassian who spoke through the hushed apprehension of the sliding doors. ‘I’ve waited through life and death for this,’ he murmured. ‘I have some idea where you want what you seek, but I’m not sure, I’m really not _sure_ what’s going to be on the other side of this.’ 

It was just as well light still spilt from the tip of her wand as she kept it raised, because the only thing that greeted her as the doors to Ultima Thule opened was a long, dark, stone corridor. 

Cassian Malfoy’s ghost slumped. ‘That was anti-climactic.’ 

‘Relax,’ said Scorpius, who still wore a stupid grin on his face. ‘There’ll be more. You get to explore.’ 

‘I do.’ The ghost frowned. ‘I had thought maybe there would be more here, but perhaps all they _did_ do is - is lock things away.’ 

‘You know,’ said Rose, ‘I will be happy to open this place up - for the right people - once the war is over. We can have exciting academic exploration later.’ 

Scorpius looked at her. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say _anything_ like that.’ 

She flashed him a smile. ‘I have a reason to focus.’ 

‘Follow me,’ sighed the ghost of Cassian Malfoy. ‘From records in Amsvartnir, Svetloyar, Tibet, I have some concept of this place. Astonishingly, chambers securing a spring of an otherworldly river will be far, far towards the bottom.’ 

‘Maybe we _shouldn_ _’t_ open this place up once the war is over,’ said Scorpius as they followed. ‘Maybe we should Obliviate ourselves.’ 

‘I sought this place to stop it from falling into the wrong hands,’ Cassian agreed. ‘But your decisions here will be your own.’ 

‘One step at a time,’ said Rose, except their next steps down the long, dark passageway led eventually to another set of solid stone doors. 

‘If those scribblings in Russia were right, these should open up to the main chambers,’ said Cassian. 

‘And how,’ said Scorpius, ‘do we open them?’ 

‘That,’ said Cassian, ‘is a good question.’ 

Rose advanced on the doors. These were only about eight feet high, and while they were solid stone they were nothing compared to the mighty gates they had passed by already. She wafted her wand over them. ‘Oh. These should be opening automatically - it’s a simple enchantment ritual to have them respond if they sense a wand.’ 

‘Then… why aren’t they opening?’ said Scorpius. 

‘Because this is a much less powerful piece of magic, and it’s died after several _thousand_ years.’ 

‘That’s ridiculous. We bypass the big, important security door, and then we’re thwarted by a mechanical failure? Can you fix it?’ 

‘Probably,’ said Rose, but she hefted the satchel of explosive runes again. ‘But if this is just a door, this will be a _lot_ quicker.’ 

Cassian peered at the satchel. ‘Were you seeking to kill yourselves and bring this entire mountainside crashing down to destroy everything and everyone inside? Because that’s what you’ll do with that many runes.’ 

Rose rolled her eyes and plucked out a single rune, tossing the bag on the ground. ‘I was going to use _one_ ,’ she said. ‘That’ll be enough to get through, and it shouldn’t disrupt any magic on the other side. Not if anything beyond this door is properly contained. It could take _hours_ to piece a ritual together.’ 

‘Swift. Efficient.’ Scorpius clapped his hands together and rocked on the balls of his feet. ‘I like it.’ 

Then a spell smacked into his back and knocked him into the corridor wall, and a fresh, familiar voice boomed from the passageway behind them. 

‘I concur,’ said Adhemar Castagnary, and then there were four bright wand-tips, four tall, robed figures in masks. In so far as Rose could recognise a silhouette, she knew when she’d seen this last: As a shape on a shattered, deliberately wrecked freighter, surrounded by Inferi doing their bidding. 

Thornweavers from Helluby. They’d been followed. 

And they’d just opened Ultima Thule _for_ them. 


	38. The Storm Brake on the Mountain

The Thornweavers didn’t see her coming. They had to have investigated the collapsed stairwell and assumed, not unreasonably, that nobody was getting up that way. 

So when Eva burst through the doors into the lobby of the Magical Transportation Division, the first two guards were dropped with barely the flick of a wand. That just left one, and a pair of Inferi still with some colour to their cheeks, still garbed in robes that were not that ragged, that worn. Of course Geiger had reinforced himself with those murdered in the building. 

It was her against three, but two of them had to close the distance and, as it turned out, she was better with a wand than the third. 

_Whatever it takes._ That had been her mantra for so long. Fight, survive, win, whatever the cost, and her blood thundered in her ears with every swipe of the blade, every flick of the wand. Not by conscious thought did she fight, but lower instincts that reacted before she knew it, her body a weapon even more honed than the two in her hands. 

She dealt with the Thornweaver last, after the two Inferi lay twitching on the ground, felled by blows from a magic-disrupting sword. By the end, he was flat on his back on the lobby flagstones, groaning, wand just out of reach. Before he could recover, she’d pounced. Her foot slammed on his wrist with a _crunch_ and a scream, then her knee was planted on his chest, wand pressed against his throat. ‘Don’t move.’ 

_Finish it._   
  
That was the survival instinct, the one which reminded her a dead enemy was one who wouldn’t come back, and it pulsed with every heartbeat. 

‘You _broke_ my fucking _wrist_ -’ It was an American accent that slipped through, another reminder that the Council of Thorns weren’t just the heirs of Grindelwald’s European legacy. 

She slammed him against the floor. ‘I’ll do more if you don’t cooperate. Is there anyone else on this level?’ 

‘No,’ he croaked. She smacked him down again, and he yelped. ‘No! Cabot’s sake, girl, I’m telling the truth! They headed back up to tell Geiger about the stairwell.’ 

‘How many of you are there?’ 

‘Eight, including me and Geiger. And now a lot less Inferi.’ The Thornweaver drew a raking breath. ‘Look, I know what you want; the Portkey, right? It’s in the next chamber over. You won’t move it, but it’s set for Nairobi, I think. Hasn’t been worth our while to switch off.’ 

_Only six, after the two downstairs._ Eva looked at the door he gestured to. Permanent Portkeys were hefty magical devices. The effort in down-powering one could likely be spent elsewhere. She pushed him down and stood. ‘Nairobi.’ Kenya was a long way away. They’d seen no impact from the Council of Thorns, they had only limited ties to the IMC. Nobody would ask too many questions, and she could bluff her way through and out before anyone knew who she _really_ was. Then she’d be gone. Far away. 

_And why not? Albus is dead. You stay here, you get brought back to Britain and when your contract_ _’s up, you’re going straight to prison. You think Harry Potter will back your corner when the son you were working with is_ dead _? They_ _’re going to lock you up and throw away the key if you stay. But you can_ run - 

Her fist clenched. _What about Pretorius, Lockett, Astoria Malfoy? All the others?_   
  
_They_ _’re nearby. They can figure it out. And if not, so what? You don’t_ owe _them anything. Are they really worth going away for life?_   
  
‘ _Stupefy_.’ Her Stun cracked into the Thornweaver, and she stalked to the chamber door, pushing it open. Inside was as she’d expected, one of those international Portkey rooms, the metal ring sat on a plinth in the centre. All she needed to do was walk over, grab it, and she’d be gone. 

_And where, exactly, are you going? What, exactly, are you going to do?_   
  
Not _rot in prison forever? You have nothing else to prove to anyone._   
  
Bile rose in her throat, thick and choking enough to make her step back from the door. _And then he died for nothing._   
  
_Everyone dies for nothing._

She moved.   
  
Cold metal under her hand, solid, unyielding - and then it shifted with a creak, then there was darkness - 

Then Pretorius’ face peering at her from the lift shaft, eyes wide, apprehensive. ‘I thought you weren’t going to make it.’ 

Eva extended a hand to help her through the lift doors and into the lobby. ‘For a minute there, so did I. Everyone up alright?’ 

‘Yes. Yes, we’re here.’ Pretorius hauled herself up, then began to help the rest of the thirty-one up into the offices of International Transportation. ‘VIPs included.’ 

‘The Portkey will get you all to Nairobi. The IMC can be contacted from there, help and support given.’ Eva gave her a hand until it was Gregory Goyle she pulled out of the lift shaft, looking pale and rattled. ‘But I need you to do something with this one: I need you to hand him over to the authorities in Britain. Either to Harry Potter or Hermione Granger.’ 

Pretorius rolled her eyes. ‘The attack makes any intel from him useless. You can have him; take him with you when we get to Nairobi.’ 

Eva stepped back and let out a slow breath. ‘I’m not coming with you to Nairobi.’ 

‘What?’ 

She slipped her wand into her pocket, made sure the sword was nestled securely in the tiny scabbard at her hip. ‘Erik Geiger and six other Thornweavers are still up there -’ 

‘And the Department of Magic has _fallen_ , Saida -’ 

‘It has. And Albus Potter is dead.’ Eva’s gaze flickered. ‘The least I can do is bring his body back for his family and give them some measure of justice.’ 

Pretorius grabbed her by the shoulder. The survivors were rallying by now, and shuffling off into the Portkey chamber. ‘That sounds needless.’ 

_Everyone dies for nothing._ ‘I’ve done my _duty_ here. I’ve got you out. I’ve got Goyle set for Britain. Make sure he gets there, people need what he knows. But someone else can pick up that baton.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

But someone else interrupted Pretorius, a thick-set wizard with grey streaked through his dark, coiled hair. He wore, Eva noted out of habit more than caring, far more expensive robes than anyone else. ‘Warrant Officer. We shouldn’t delay.’ 

Eva watched Pretorius’ lips thin. ‘Yes, Judge Roux.’ 

_That_ _’ll be one of those VIPs._ But the man lingered as Pretorius pulled away, meeting Eva’s gaze with a focused calm that belied the crisis surrounding them. ‘What you’ve done for everyone here won’t be forgotten, Ms Saida.’ 

_I didn_ _’t do it for you._ All she wanted, though, was to be let go, so Eva nodded briskly. ‘Just get safe, sir.’ Then she pulled away, started for the stairwell which now could take her straight to the main lobby. The Council had to have lost most of their Inferi in the collapse. They were down several Thornweavers; she didn’t know how many Albus had incapacitated or rattled before he’d been taken. 

‘Saida!’ 

That wasn’t Pretorius or Roux, so Eva stopped and turned towards Nathalie Lockett. ‘Professor.’ It was the title everyone kept giving her. ‘I’ll ask you to help make sure Gregory Goyle ends up in the right place. He might know where Draco Malfoy is.’ The woman still didn’t know about Scorpius, of course, but someone else could deal with that. 

Lockett’s expression set. ‘I will,’ she said, then let out a slow breath. ‘Give them hell.’ 

Relief flooded through Eva at not having to argue again, though it was relief soured by finding nothing inside her to bounce off. Not rage, not pain, not loss. Just what Albus had left in his wake by dying on her. Absolutely nothing. 

‘I will,’ she said, and turned for the stairs. The thirty-one survivors trooped into the Portkey Chamber, soon to be far away from this death-zone, soon to be safe, leaving her. 

Her against six Thornweavers, Erik Geiger, and his remaining Inferi. But she knew where they were, and they didn’t know she was coming. It was a fighting chance. 

And that was all she’d ever needed.

* * 

‘There’s still very little coming out of South Africa,’ stammered Lowsley, stood at Matt’s door and rifling through sheafs of paper. ‘Er, I mean, the Durban attacks were pretty complete and there are some scary ideas about the death-count among the Department’s staff in general and Enforcers in particular, and the HQ in Cape Town has been _completely_ locked down -’ 

‘I don’t care about the political situation in South Africa,’ Matt said, raising his head. ‘Is there any news on Albus and Saida?’ 

‘No news on _anyone_ getting out. But no reports that they’ve been caught or killed. Nothing much is coming out of Johannesburg. It’s hard to say what the situation is.’ 

‘We’re not sending recon?’ 

‘To a country the Council of Thorns has overrun? Johannesburg isn’t a big deal to the IMC, Matt. I know that sounds rough -’ 

‘Just a bit.’ Matt put down the papers and lifted his good hand to his temples. ‘What about Helluby?’ 

He heard Lowsley rummage through notes and suck his teeth. ‘No news is good news? The Thornweavers responsible haven’t been apprehended but the Inferi are contained and the townsfolk getting medical help. There have been no remains found identified as Rose’s or Malfoy’s. They were spotted in town during the attack, but nobody knows what happened to them.’ 

A fist clenched around Matt’s ribs. ‘The Thornweavers could have made off with them?’ 

‘I don’t _know_ , Matt.’ 

_He_ _’s just a researcher. One who has better things to do right now than brief you. ‘_ Alright. Send my thanks to Ms Granger for the missive.’ 

‘I’ll thank her office. _She_ _’s_ in Helluby.’ 

_Of course she is. She can afford to do that._ But Lowsley left and Matt slumped in his chair, closing his eyes against the throbbing threatening to split his skull. It had started the moment he’d finished returning his office to a usable state and he’d sent the first research team off, Selena gone as his eyes and ears - 

_And you can_ _’t go with them._   
  
Brow furrowing, he reached for his parchment and the latest source, translated passages from the _Fifth Branch of the Mabinogi_ , ancient tales of wizarding Wales. The translation lost some of the nuance, but he could pin down the areas of particular interest so they could be scoured later, make notes. His quill, twitching in mid-air of its own accord, began to run low on ink, so he reached for the pot - 

And his clunky prosthetic knocked it over, spilling all over the translations. 

‘Son of a -’ 

He rose, grabbing his wand to clean up the mess, but it was still creeping across the desk, across his notes. Removing the spilt ink without removing the writing he _wanted_ to stay on the paper took a very precise wand-twitch, and his first attempt with his left hand did nothing. 

‘Stupid - clunky -’ There was a knock at the door. ‘ _What_?’ 

And Matt looked up to see his father. Prison had made him paler, thinner. His hair dangled into his eyes like his son’s, but now was joined by fresh streaks of grey, gaunter cheeks making his gaze darker. That didn’t matter. Matt still hurled himself across the office, wrapping his arms around Gabriel like he’d done when his father returned home from work when he was little. ‘Dad, you’re - I heard, is Mum -’ 

‘She’s back, she picked me up from Canary Wharf this morning.’ 

‘You’re alright? You’re -’ 

‘Fed, showered, napped. Not that prison is that tiring. More dull. I haven’t spent that much time in a confined space with Toby since Hogwarts and he’s had twenty five years to pick up new _boring_ facts.’ Gabriel smirked, because he almost never smiled and apparently being freed from prison gave him no reason to change this, but it was the gentler, kinder smirk reserved for family and friends. ‘I hear _you_ _’ve_ been busy.’ 

Matt pulled back, and his metal hand felt lighter as he lowered his arms. ‘Yeah. Trying to be. Chasing some leads on the creation of the Chalice; I’ve got a team in the field right now. Or, in the water.’ He frowned. 

‘Water?’ 

They took seats, Matt shunting his notes to one side. ‘I’m chasing legends of sunken cities from Welsh mythology. I know it sounds crazy, but the Chalice was just a legend before we found it. There’s one story about a place, Cantref Gwaelod, which was meant to be sunken off Cardigan Bay.’ 

The corners of Gabriel’s eyes creased. ‘I bet witches and wizards have chased all that.’ 

‘They have.’ Matt sighed. ‘But we have some magical signatures to narrow down, and we’re hoping that will show _something_. However far out it gets.’ 

Gabriel nodded, leaning back in the chair like it was effort to even sit up straight. Matt didn’t look directly at him; possibly the only thing scarier than seeing his own arm end in a stump was seeing his father, forever unflappable, implacable, reduced like this. So it was his father who had to fill the silence, and he did so with that same smirk. ‘I’m sure I told you to keep your nose out of trouble.’ 

‘I was just following in your footsteps.’ 

‘That’s not true. If you followed in my footsteps you’d have got yourself arrested. But you went and worked _with_ the system and it happened to pay off.’ 

Matt gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘If the Ministry really did have Council goons so high up, I can see why you didn’t trust them. Is that why you think Halvard’s people were so keen to get you contained?’ 

‘Lillian Rourke _let_ him contain me, but it’s possible. I was a wild card and I was sniffing around them, while everyone else was focused on the bigger picture. I think they used the Rotterdam incident and Potter’s anger as an excuse to keep me locked up and throw away the key.’ 

‘And Toby, if the _Clarion_ was poking into the smuggling which turned out to be Draco Malfoy. I think unravelling that, and all the Ministry connections which let it happen and protected Malfoy, is what brought this house of cards down.’ 

‘You think?’ Gabriel raised an eyebrow. ‘See, I thought I had you to thank.’ 

‘I wish you did.’ Matt’s lips twisted. ‘But it wasn’t me, Dad.’ Selena had explained, if only briefly, how she and Eva had leaned on Amadeus Candlestone and unravelled hints of corruption around the Minister. But she’d also claimed she’d done nothing with the information, and he had no reason to disbelieve her. _Did Saida do this? Find a weakness in the Ministry of Magic and pass it up to the IMC?_ He didn’t want to spend too long wondering about Eva Saida’s actions or motivations. He’d tie himself in knots. ‘Still,’ he said. ‘Lillian Rourke now runs the country.’ 

‘Lillian Rourke runs the bloody world.’ Gabriel frowned. ‘I don’t like that.’ 

Matt fought the urge to call him paranoid. Weeks in prison made it understandable. ‘The Council isn’t stopping. They have an army they can afford to hurl into battles where they take horrendous losses, because so long as they win they can replenish their forces. The Statute of Secrecy is straining at the seams, only not broken because _they_ don’t want it broken yet either. South America, Greece, South Africa - our only victory has been the USA. We really _can_ _’t_ afford to have corruption in our own ranks.’ 

‘Maybe not,’ came a voice from the door, and there stood Selena, damp and bedraggled and most put-out. ‘But now my mother is going to be _insufferable_.’ Then she spotted Gabriel and visibly swallowed. ‘Uh, hullo, Mister Doyle.’ 

Gabriel got to his feet, eyeballing her. ‘Miss Rourke. I’m sure you have important things to report.’ 

‘Actually I have naff and all to report,’ Selena sighed, slipping past him to dump papers on Matt’s desk. ‘There’s nothing there. We looked. A lot. It’s cold and it’s raining and we had to put ritual markings on _buoys_ across the bay and they didn’t pick up the slightest magical signature.’ 

Matt groaned, resting his head in his hand. ‘Even if it’s out there, it wouldn’t be that easy to find, would it? It’s been lost for fifteen hundred years _at least_ …’ 

‘Cardigan Bay’s too shallow. But not so shallow that Nejem didn’t almost drown. I had to rescue him. It was very pathetic.’ 

Gabriel looked between them. ‘You have work to do, I see. I’ll let you get back to it.’ His son got a warm embrace, Selena a nod that was either suspicious or awkward, and then he left. With him went the one success and good news of the day, and Matt slumped onto his chair. 

‘So we think we know the name of where the Chalice _might_ have been made,’ he groaned. ‘But we don’t know _where_ that is.’ 

Selena slunk around behind the chair, hands sliding over his shoulders. ‘We’re trying to find a place wizards have hunted for centuries. Even if it’s been myth, I bet once it sank, people tried looking.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Matt closed his eyes at her warm touch. ‘I was counting on the idea that wizardkind has done very _little_ with the ocean. Coasts are fine, but deeper waters have been something we want to cross, not explore. It’s Muggles who ventured under the sea -’ 

They both froze as the conclusion hit them at the same time - then Selena was rushing to the door even as Matt spoke. ‘Get Lowsley,’ he said. ‘Tell him to drag up Muggle records from the west coast of shipping disasters, shipping _routes_ , anything and anywhere the Muggles either have problems sailing over or _just don_ _’t go to_ -’ 

‘I’m on it,’ she said, and flashed him a pleased smile before she disappeared out the door, the smile that lurched in his gut just as much as the snatch of a lead did, and his head spun because he could _do this._ And she was with him all the way.

* * 

‘Castagnary, you little shit,’ was all Rose could say as realisation thudded through her bones. ‘I should have known you’d slither out from under some rock.’ 

‘Miss Weasley. A pleasure, as always.’ The Council of Thorns’ leading archaeologist gave a little bow. He was not the most impressive figure before them - that was the tall, broad Thornweavers in their robes and masks, while he looked much as she had ever seen him. Ready for practical works, not ready for death and murder. She’d liked to think Castagnary was just a misguided academic, one working for the highest bidder. Not an adherent of Raskoph’s ideology. But now she suspected she was going to regret Matt hadn’t killed him in Thebes. 

‘Wait, _this_ is that dweeb you were beating across Egypt?’ Scorpius’ voice went up that indignant pitch reserved for when he was _really_ rattled. 

‘Excuse me -’ 

‘That’s him,’ said Rose, jaw tight. 

Scorpius stabbed his wand at Castagnary, and Rose’s heart almost stopped as the Thornweavers tensed at the movements. ‘I _know_ you.’ 

Castagnary sighed. ‘Yes. Who do you think _found_ an appropriate site of necromantic power for your recovery, Mister Malfoy? I _am_ the Council’s leading researcher.’ 

Rose looked over. ‘He was in Tibet?’ Then she turned back to Castagnary. ‘You _helped_ bring him back?’ _All that time in Egypt and the truth was just at my fingertips if only I_ _’d -_   
  
_\- what, casually demanded of him if your ex-boyfriend wasn_ _’t really dead?_   
  
‘Yes - look, Mademoiselle, could you move away from the door? I don’t want to kill you.’ 

‘As opposed to all of those people in Helluby -’ 

Castagnary’s jaw tightened. ‘That was not my decision. Following you when you got away _is_ mymission, and I will handle it _my_ way.’ 

‘So long as it’s how your masters like.’ 

‘And so long as you don’t upset my companions, so _please_ , Miss Weasley, Mister Malfoy, step _away_ from the door!’ 

One of his compatriots said something Rose didn’t understand, in Swedish or some other Scandinavian language. But the tone was plain enough, and Castagnary’s shake of the head. _Shall we kill them? No, not yet_. 

But light only came from wand-tips, and the exchange diverted their attention. What remained was focused on Scorpius, because of course he was the priority target, so it was with a gleam of satisfied indignation that Rose exploited being overlooked. Just a little. Just enough to slide the satchel of rune-charges into the shadowed corner of the doorway, out of sight. 

The groups rotated in near-unison, the Thornweavers approaching the door, Rose and Scorpius slinking away. Wands remained drawn on all sides, but nobody was under any illusions who held the upper hand. And as she looked around, there was no sign of the ghost of Cassian Malfoy. 

‘Why _did_ you wipe out Helluby, then?’ said Scorpius, voice tight, and she recognised that tone, that stance. He talked because he was scared and because he was angry and this was the only way he could begin to master control even if he couldn’t master the emotions. 

‘Colonel Raskoph,’ said Castagnary, pointedly trying to distance himself from the wholesale slaughter, ‘chose to do that when he heard you were in the town. To show the world what happens when they shelter and help his enemies.’ 

‘Shelter -’ Scorpius’ lip curled as the Thornweavers reached the door. ‘They didn’t _know_! We were just random passers-by, clients at a hotel, customers at a restaurant! They weren’t making a political statement!’ 

‘But your presence destroyed them anyway. That still sends a message, teaches a lesson. One you can learn.’ But Castagnary didn’t look very convinced, and Rose’s stomach twirled tighter. Whatever he wanted, Raskoph was unlikely to let them live. The knowledge seemed to shame Castagnary, for he turned away, began waving his wand over the sealed doorways. 

‘Do you even know what you’re looking for in there?’ she blurted. 

He only glanced over his shoulder. ‘Dear Miss Weasley, only the Colonel himself knows more about these secrets of the world than I. Far underground springs the river that is the boundary between worlds. Rasa, the Sanzu, the Vaitarna… the Styx.’ 

‘It’s _death_ ,’ spat Scorpius, fists clenched by his side. ‘You open that up, you march in there, and you are going to get _so many people_ killed - but you don’t bloody care, do you, that’s your job! Your purpose!’ 

‘The world’s governments,’ barked Castagnary, ‘will _kneel_ and _surrender_ when they realise Colonel Raskoph has a weapon like this at his disposal.’ 

‘Yeah, the world’s been _really good_ at submitting to his whims -’ 

‘Castagnary,’ said Rose, speaking over Scorpius. ‘You’re _not_ a killer, you’re _not_ a monster, you’re an academic. You’re a researcher. We’ve worked for different people but we’ve had the same goals for so long: exploration, knowledge. If you do this, if you go through those doors and hand the waters of the Styx over to the Council, it is going to cost so many lives -’ 

‘Costing lives!’ Castagnary gave a short, humourless laugh, and she watched him turn away from his work on the door, give his three Thornweaver companions anxious glances. She’d seen him handle dumb muscle before in Egypt, but this was different. 

_He_ _’s not in control here_ , she realised, and her heart sank. Convincing Adhemar Castagnary would be worthless or impossible, because he couldn’t order these three adherents of Joachim Raskoph to change course. 

‘ _You_ would talk to _me_ about costing lives!’ he continued, and she could hear the hysterical edge to his voice as he glared at Scorpius. ‘The Council of Thorns _saved_ you, Mister Malfoy. _I_ saved you, I found that Veil, I made sure that Thane and his wretched work could come to fruition, I stood and watched when you came back through. They all fussed over you so much, Thane for his success, Raskoph for getting Lethe from you, your mother or whoever she was just for _you_ , and you brought _death_ with you.’ 

Scorpius stopped short. ‘My _mother_?’ 

But Castagnary wasn’t done. ‘And the Council was _different_ back then! Yes, we killed people, but Krauser or Horn or Voigt wouldn’t have ordered attacks like the Lethe Incursion. They understood _fear_ , not slaughter. Less was more for those men, but not a - not _Raskoph_!’ She could hear the condemnation in his tone, hear him biting back harsher words as his Thornweaver compatriots looked at him. ‘But you had to kill those three, didn’t you. You and Thane and his traitors. You thought you were weakening the Council on your little crusade? All you did was destroy Raskoph’s rivals. Destroyed the in-fighting, removed the moderate voices. You made him stronger.’ He straightened and cleared his voice, but there was little conviction in his next words, only an acrid sickness. ‘Made _us_ stronger.’ 

Rose let out a low, shaky breath. ‘You could have quit,’ she said quietly. ‘If it was different to what you -’ 

‘It was _everything_ I wanted,’ said Castagnary, and even though his lies were transparent, she knew it was what he had to say with three of Raskoph’s men at his back. ‘Now, throw down your wands. Perhaps the Colonel will have some use for you.’ 

‘You don’t need to do this.’ Panic bubbled up in her throat, and she had to swallow hard so it didn’t choke her, even though she knew she didn’t have words to stop it. ‘You’ve got Lethe, you don’t have to -’ 

‘I will not let you make this _worse_ ,’ Scorpius thundered over her, eyes blazing, wand not dropping an inch. ‘Lethe is in the world because of me; I will not _lead_ you to something even more -’ 

‘You already _have_ ,’ said Castagnary, curt and sympathetic at once. ‘It’s over. Now make it easier on yourselves.’ 

His compatriots squared their shoulders and shifted into combat stances, and Rose felt the frozen chill of this place sear through her layers, through her fear, and sink straight to her bones. Scorpius stood poised, ready to fight, ready to _die_ , and she knew she was out of options. Act, and lose everything. Die, and lose everything.   
  
She drew a raking breath and breathed, just enough for Scorpius to hear, ‘Time for a Harrier’s Block. I have the Quaffle.’ 

His expression twitched, no doubt struggling in the race from fury to Quidditch, but he gave the slightest nod of the head, the slightest shift of his stance, and so she had to trust him and act. 

Trust him and doom him. 

A Harrier’s Block was a term for Chasers, named for a favoured move by the team itself some sixty years earlier. It was simple enough; two Chasers pulled a full defensive move while the third took the real action, usually to either score with the Quaffle or seize it. So she hoped her meaning was clear enough down here, hoped he’d know what she needed of him. 

When her wand flicked out, two of the Thornweavers cast at once. Magic flew through the air, thick and fierce, and even though he’d been ready, Scorpius’ Shield spell wasn’t enough to keep them both safe. One spell hit her in the gut hard enough to double her over, but it didn’t shatter every bone in her body as she suspected had been the intent. Scorpius, next to her, took a blow to the hip that brought with it a spurt of blood, and he fell. 

But her spell had gone off, and the last Thornweaver was ready, casting their own Shield, ready to block her puny opening attack. 

A puny opening attack that rocketed past him, because she hadn’t been aiming for the Thornweavers. She’d been aiming for the satchel still nestled in the corner, filled with runestones. The Thornweavers’ own runestones, the ones she’d taken from the freighter they’d crashed, and if Rose hadn’t felt sick she would have been filled with a surge of righteous satisfaction at destroying them with their own weapons. 

Except then the satchel exploded, and everything slowed. 

A wave of fire blossomed like a flower outward and upward, fierce enough and powerful enough to punch a hole through hundreds of tonnes of steel. Certainly enough to thwart Castagnary and his Thornweavers. Likely enough to challenge these icy passageways, even through the defences of Ultima Thule. The flames consumed Castagnary first, then billowed outward, knocked the other three flying before swarming out, claiming them in a heartbeat. Rose dove for Scorpius, covered him with her body and, even as her lungs burnt for air they couldn’t yet claim, screwed her eyes shut and focused more fiercely on a spell than she ever had before. 

Her Shields were brilliant. Even Albus said so. She’d stopped a whole building from falling and crushing a dozen Muggles back in Portugal, but the sheer force rocketing towards them was even greater, and so she was going to have to make this even worse if they were to have a hope of surviving. The trick, her teachers had told her, old Professor Tully had told her, to a successful Shield wasn’t to absorb all the force. Far, far easier to _deflect_ it. 

So when the all-consuming blast reached them, it didn’t crash into the Shield she threw over herself and the agonised Scorpius, but deflected. Flowed. Down. 

Down, into the belly of the frozen mountain. Doubling the impact, doubling the blast, into masonry and stone and a hall of wonders designed to keep attackers _out_ \- not survive a strike from so deep within, for they were already _past_ the outer defences. 

Even as the flames and force died, Rose could feel the ground rumbling. See the walls of the cave shudder, the ceiling shake. The doors that had blocked their way deeper were gone, now, shattered rock, and for a heartbeat she could see the passageways into Ultima Thule, could see gleaming gold and shimmering magic. 

Then a chunk of stone as big as her collapsed not three feet from her ankles. She scrabbled to her feet. ‘We’ve got to go.’ 

Scorpius clutched his hip, gasping. ‘You - you blew it up -’ 

‘It was that or they kill us and take the whole place, Scorp, we’ve got to -’ 

He needed her help to stand, needed her help to run, and now the roles were reversed from the flight from Helluby as they staggered back up the icy corridor that shuddered and shattered all around them. She was more worn than she’d been then, and yet magic answered her now because it _had_ to, because it wasn’t just her she had to save but _him_ , and her limbs screamed when the spells flowed through them for more strength, more resilience. She would pay for it later, but there had to _be_ a later. 

‘I can’t run, Rose,’ Scorpius gasped as she dragged him, managing a jog under his weight only with magic aiding her. Behind them, masonry cracked and fell, and she knew if she hadn’t strengthened herself, they would have been that far back, would have been crushed. ‘You’ve got to _go_.’ 

‘We’ve got a new rule,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘No more of this “I’ll come back every time”. From now on, where you go, _I go.’ Even if I’ve just doomed you._ ‘Now shut up!’

They staggered and stumbled, the whole world shaking around them. Sheets of ice and stone fell from the walls and ceiling, and she had to jerk her wand upwards to deflect one chunk of falling rock. It was worse than on Cat Island, longer and darker and colder, and even when they erupted out of the passageway and onto the open shelf, it didn’t stop. 

‘Did you just blow this mountain up?’ Scorpius screeched over the sound of thunder that wouldn’t stop. 

‘Little bit!’ Rose dragged him across the snow, past the crumpled earthly remains of Cassian Malfoy, towards the narrow path they’d crawled up to make it this far - 

Then the ground gave way from under them. Ice and stone shattering at their feet, sending them careening off the edge in a tumble of frozen rock and snow, over and under and spinning, flying, falling. 

And the last thing Rose knew before the ground far below rushed up to meet them was the understanding she had just destroyed every last one of Scorpius Malfoy’s chances at life. 


	39. On Our Dull Side of Death

Rose didn’t haul on the reins to bring the carriage to a thundering halt of skidding ice and whipping winds until the ground stopped quaking underneath. The elks were still huffing, icy flanks rising and falling with lurching breaths that were too cold to mist even in this air, and a glance over her shoulder showed nothing but sheer white. Rock and ice had been hurled into the air by the collapse of the mountainside, the implosion of the halls of Ultima Thule. With the arctic winds of Baffin Island, it was like someone had thrown a jagged sheet over the view behind her. 

There was nothing left. Even once the ice settled, she couldn’t claw her way through a collapsed ruin single-handed. Not with Scorpius tossed somewhat unceremoniously inside the cabin, with only the one healing spell yet applied to quell the bleeding. They’d been thoughtless before, not checking if they were being followed; now she couldn’t take the risk that Castagnary and his Thornweavers were the only ones out there. They might have been an advance party. She couldn’t stay. 

‘Shit,’ Rose declared, hopping off the driver’s bench onto the crunching, frosted ground. ‘Shit, shit, _shit_ -’ 

‘That’s a fair assessment.’ For a heartbeat she thought it was Scorpius, and spun with the intent of yelling at him to get back to resting. It wasn’t, of course, because the voice came from the frozen wastes, and then the shimmering form of Cassian Malfoy drifted from the ice and fog into view.   
  
She stabbed a finger at him. ‘Where the hell were _you_ in all that?’ 

Cassian paused, and opened his ethereal hands. ‘ _Ghost_. What was I supposed to do, jump up from behind them and say, “Boo”?’ 

‘Ghosts have certain powers over their environments -’ 

‘I could have made _creepy sounds_ and rattles down a corridor and ominous whispers on the wind. I’m _sorry_.’ He sounded like he meant it. ‘I disappeared because I didn’t fancy being stuck in a binding circle by Raskoph’s adherents and forced to answer their questions.’ 

She stalked across the gap. ‘So there is more you know.’ 

‘Everything useful I know just collapsed with Ultima Thule. And I’m afraid it _is_ collapsed. Half that mountain came down. Even the outermost passages are under tonnes of rock. I would expect it to take months of excavation to safely clear an entrance. Maybe years, depending on the damage to the magical defences.’ 

‘We don’t _have_ months. Over months or years, Raskoph is going to kill a lot of people.’ 

‘He is.’ Cassian met her gaze. ‘But you didn’t come here to stop Raskoph.’ 

Her jaw tightened. ‘I came here for Scorpius. Because _you_ reached out to him, _you_ made him believe that _maybe_ there was something of use out here.’ 

‘I thought there might be -’ 

‘And all we got was a _history lesson_ on the origins of a plague we know how to cure, and false hope!’ Her voice sounded closer, like the dense ice and fog was a wall for it to bounce off. 

Cassian’s ghost looked away. ‘I hadn’t anticipated hope, false or otherwise. But I didn’t stop Raskoph eighty years ago. I thought I could help stop him now. And I thought I could lend help to my _family_ , now they were finally taking up the fight.’ 

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Of course. This was for _you_. For _you_ to mollify your sense of failure, for _you_ to try to make something of the Malfoy family’s fine heritage of being utter _arseholes_ -’ 

‘Perhaps my desire for rest _is_ selfish.’ His head snapped up. ‘But why are _you_ here, Miss Weasley? You could have left the doors to Ultima Thule closed, as he _said_. I may not have brought you here for the most heroic of reasons, but you are not _here_ for the most heroic.’ 

‘I’ve _done_ my heroism,’ Rose snapped. ‘All it did was get the people I cared about hurt and killed. Raskoph can be beaten by someone else.’ 

‘Raskoph is going to be beaten by the person in front of him,’ said Cassian in a low voice. ‘Maybe someone who steps up. Maybe just someone who’s _there_. Telling yourself “it won’t be me,” is how he prospers, is how people fail to oppose him. They think they can’t, or they think it’s not their place.’ 

She scoffed. ‘Are you saying I need to adopt this mantle of duty of finishing your work -’ 

‘I’m saying _I_ didn’t set out to defy great evil, either!’ The wind whipped as he shouted, like the frost hardened under his anger. ‘But I was _there_. I was there, and I _could_. If everyone who could turn away from risk and evil did so, that evil would never be stopped. It wasn’t by some clever sacrifice or inherent heroism that I died to stop him. I did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less. And that’s all _anyone_ can do to stop him.’ 

‘ _Great_ ,’ Rose sneered. ‘Don’t suppose you could give me more practical advice? Gaping weaknesses?’ 

Cassian worked his incorporeal jaw for a moment. ‘He’s inventive. He favours up close and personal magics; I suppose it’s a form of dominating his enemy. But while he’s very skilled and I imagine is only more formidable after eighty years, he _is_ just a wizard.’ 

‘Oh, good. That makes him less terrifying than _past_ dark lords. Unless he’s got seven lives or, I don’t know, can _fly_.’ 

Cassian shrugged, frustration fading for haplessness. ‘I haven’t tested how many lives he has. I do know he can’t fly. Threw him off a building once in Copenhagen; he broke both his legs.’ 

‘Then I guess it’s _easy_.’ 

‘I’m sorry. I truly am. I wanted to help, I wanted to give you answers. Answers about Raskoph, maybe answers to save the boy…’ 

She looked over her shoulder back at the carriage. Scorpius was inside, resting, aching, and he couldn’t know yet that she’d failed, that she’d dangled hope in front of him only for it to be taken away again - 

‘There has to be another way,’ she croaked. ‘We’ve come too far, done too much.’ 

‘Sometimes,’ said Cassian, and she could have sworn he was fading in the mist, ‘we can’t win. We just have to choose how we lose. Maybe we get our happy life, but we let evil win, in the world by letting it prosper, or in ourselves by breaking all our own rules. Or we sacrifice the personal for the bigger picture.’ 

Rose squinted at him, the swirling shape of a man long dead. ‘Do you regret it?’ 

He gave a gentle snort and shifted his weight, stance so much like Scorpius’ at his most self-defeating. ‘I’m a ghost bound to ancient ruins in the frozen roof of the world. I won’t find peace until Raskoph’s stopped and I know all he and I fought for and discovered is beyond his grasp. I left the woman I love and the family I never reconciled with behind, and let the world remember me as an irreverent fop who never cared for anything but his own fun. Was it the right thing to do? Yes. Do I regret it?’ The wind picked up, and the wispy, silvery form of Cassian Malfoy’s ghost was overtaken by the mist and ice for a moment. 

She stepped forward, extended a hand as if she could grab hold of him. ‘Cassian -’ 

She didn’t see him again. The wind kept swirling, whistling and whipping around her. But she heard the voice on the breeze, the whisper of pain and regret before the spirit was lost to her forever. 

‘Every day.’

* * 

‘Is there anything,’ Selena mused, ‘that cannot be fixed with a good Wall of Crazy?’ 

‘I have yet to find it.’ Matt bit off a length of spell-o-tape and was relieved to find his prosthetic fingers cooperating as he stuck a new map up. ‘Even if this is as confusing as it is illuminating.’ 

‘It’s illuminating? I thought all it was saying is, “there’s been a lot of shipwrecks around Cornwall.”’ 

‘There have.’ He stepped back from the huge map, resplendent with twinkling markers, showing the western and southern stretches of sea around Cornwall. ‘I was expecting more in the Welsh vicinity. But I suppose the Irish Sea isn’t the most dangerous bit of water in the world.’ 

‘To be fair, neither’s the English Channel. I wouldn’t think the _Atlantic_ were that dangerous, this close to the shore. But does this have anything to do with a lost _Welsh_ city?’ 

Matt tapped his chin. ‘Perhaps it’s wrong to assume it’s _Welsh_ , just because we’ve been reading about it in Welsh literature, just because we’ve read of it with a Welsh name.’ 

‘You think it might have other names?’ 

He crossed the office to his desk, rifled through papers until he pulled out another of his books on Celtic myths. This was one of the first he’d consulted, giving him only information in broad strokes before he’d gone deeper. ‘We looked to the Welsh mythology because of the Chalice, and it’s very likely there’s a link between the Chalice and Cantref Gwaelod. But all “Cantref” means is, well, it’s a land division. Ancient wizards of almighty power probably didn’t identify themselves as just a region of wider Wales.’ 

‘Are you saying we’ve been chasing the wrong bloody thing?’ 

‘I’m saying,’ said Matt, flicking the pages open, ‘that there’s more than one thing to chase.’ He thudded his metal finger on the page. ‘Ys. Lyonesse. Cornish and Breton myths of sunken cities. The Muggle story of how Ys fell - a debauched son getting drunk and opening up the gates - is very similar to the tale of Cantref Gwaelod. Lyonesse is…’ His head snapped up, meeting her green-eyed gaze but finding her bewildered, not invigorated. ‘By some myths and legends it’s the site of King Arthur’s final battle against Mordred.’ 

‘You mean, where King Arthur might have been mortally wounded is _also_ a lost city where a magical chalice similar to the Holy Grail might have been made?’ She smiled, and that was better than getting an answer, the sight of her encouraging him with it - but then she frowned. ‘This doesn’t answer where it is.’ 

‘No,’ Matt conceded. ‘But it does mean we should keep our options open on _where_ we look.’ He turned back to the map, gesturing at the markers. ‘There is no reason to assume what we want is off a Welsh shore, or even a Cornish shore. It’s likely _close_ to the south-western coast, but…’ 

‘What were you hoping to find off this?’ 

He shrugged. ‘Ancient magics of an ancient city would likely drive Muggles away, or otherwise stop them from finding the place. I’m looking for gaps in their shipping routes, I’m looking for places notorious for shipwrecks - like there.’ He pointed at the map. ‘That reef, it’s about a hundred miles _west_ of Cornwall. Its location is no good for Cantref Gwaelod, but for Ys? What did Lowsley’s notes say…’ 

She plucked the paper off the desk first. ‘Two hundred recorded shipwrecks of Muggles. Very little ever recovered. No studies done into the depth of the reef or anything like that; it’s like the Muggles keep sinking but don’t _care_ to figure out why. And the Ministry of Magic has no records of enchantments around the area -’ 

‘Though if those enchantments predate at least the Ministry, there might just not have been anything filed. Even if it’s innocuous.’ 

Selena looked up at the map. ‘Two hundred shipwrecks over, what, three centuries? That’s not innocuous.’ 

‘You’re right. But I don’t think reading things is the answer.’ 

She was by his side in a flash, pressing a hand to his forehead. ‘…are you _ill_?’ 

He grinned. ‘You know what I mean. Someone’s going to have to go and properly investigate. Someone used to the sorts of defensive wards and barriers of these ancient sites.’ 

‘Matt…’ His grin died as she looked him up and down. ‘I wouldn’t rush into the field if I were you, right now.’ 

‘I feel -’ 

‘Would Gringotts let you on active duty as a Curse Breaker right now?’ 

Matt’s lips thinned. ‘Probably not.’ 

‘You _have_ Curse Breakers on your staff -’ 

‘Lowsley and Nejem are good researchers but they’re _not_ practical! They were our pencil pushers, not field agents. They’d probably _faint_ if I told them they were going to have to check out the sunken city of an ancient wizarding civilisation that _may or may not_ have been a death cult.’ 

Selena folded her arms across her chest. ‘There has to be someone better. I’m not saying me. I’m just saying that _every single_ time we’ve gone looking through these sorts of old places, something has tried to kill us.’ 

Then there was a knock at the door to Matt’s office, and in stepped the tall but weary form of Reynald de Sablé, his travel robes dusty and worn, his hair rather mussed. ‘Master Doyle.’ 

Matt turned triumphantly to the old knight. ‘Sir Reynald! How was Norway?’ 

‘It was, I fear, entirely unproductive -’ 

‘No matter, no matter.’ Matt beamed at Selena, then turned back to de Sablé. ‘Welcome back to Britain. I have a new task for you.’ She rolled her eyes next to him, and he shrugged. ‘What? He can _bring_ Nejem and Lowsley to consult.’ 

Selena sighed as de Sablé looked bewildered. ‘I’m sure,’ she muttered, ‘that prodigious cowards like Nejem and Lowsley will _love_ that.’

* * 

_I_ _’m the best at this…_

Throbbing pain in his hip, the right leg, the one he’d crash-landed on in Monte Carlo, the one he’d been stabbed in under Badenheim Castle. Then a wrenching, then a scream - 

His scream? Holga’s? 

_I_ _’ll come back every time._

If it was his scream, when was he screaming? Now? Either of those injuries? When he fell? 

_You can_ _’t promise that._

_Don_ _’t care. It’s a promise._

The darkness swirled before him, a kaleidoscope of oblivion he knew so well. The ocean of feeling and consciousness, where he could float away forever beyond all thought, all idea, just simply _be_ as a part of everything else. Like tendrils, the memory of it reached out to him, beckoning, and the blood rushing in his ears thudded with a mixture of temptation and fear. 

But Rose had told him about the Styx and their plans and then he’d kissed her as hope exploded all around him, and he couldn’t go back, wouldn’t go back. 

It was with a gasp that he regained consciousness, all over again brought choking back to life in the gloom of the candlelit carriage. And with it came the memory of shattering ice and falling rock and all chance of survival closing behind him in the fall of Ultima Thule. 

Then Rose was over him. She was a mess of damp from melted ice and dirt from chunks of rock, but firelight soaked into the tangles of her hair, the worry-lines of her face, and softened them with gold. ‘Don’t move, you took a bad blow -’ 

His hand curled in her jumper, clutching her as if she’d be torn away from him even sooner. ‘Tell me it’s not over.’ His voice came out like it had been squeezed through a vice. ‘Tell me there’s a way -’ 

‘I don’t know; Scorpius, it’s too soon to know _anything_ -’ 

‘Tell me we can get to the Styx…’ But the way her face creased told him everything. His grip weakened. ‘I wasn’t supposed to hope.’ 

Her hand came up to clasp his, bury it in the folds of wool of her knitted jumper, like a tether to the world. He remembered the feel of these jumpers, Molly’s knitted gifts. It felt like Christmases with Albus, clapping him on the shoulder while he was swaddled in the thing; it felt like early, stolen kisses with Rose. It felt like the acceptance of that last Christmas, when Molly made one for him. 

He didn’t want to let it go. 

‘It’s not over,’ said Rose with the fire in her eyes. ‘I don’t care what it takes, I am _not_ giving up.’ 

‘Okay,’ said Scorpius with a weak nod, letting his head loll back onto the pillow, ‘okay. I believe you.’ And he did, though he didn’t let go, like she could drag him through this to the end. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ He felt her tense under him, and even though his head was spinning and leg throbbing, he could slowly realise it was not going to be as simple as her determination. 

Rose let out a long breath. ‘I blew up those runes. It collapsed the complex from the inside, brought down half the mountain. It looks like it’ll take months, maybe longer, for an excavation team to get through there. So we’re heading back to Helluby. The IMC should have sent relief teams in by now, and if they haven’t we can look for survivors, supplies, and keep going south.’ 

‘Yeah,’ he told the ceiling that spun with darkness and candlelight and the fire in her hair. ‘Yeah. Then what’s our next move?’ 

‘We go home…’ 

‘I mean, you’re not giving up, you’re going to find a way; what way?’ 

She let him go and pulled back. His hand grasped air and the fire of her hair fell from his sight, and Scorpius closed his eyes and reminded himself this wasn’t just a bad dream. Being awake had been so much worse for so damned long. In the silence, he found his voice. ‘There _are_ other ways - like - why didn’t we just use the Glanis Springs water…?’ He knew nothing about it except it had been used on Lethe patients, and he knew Rose would have thought of it if it were an option, but he’d tasted hope and now he had to _try_. 

Her voice came as if from a long way away, though he was sure she’d just sat next to the bed, out of his dizzy vision. ‘We need a magic ideally as powerful as that of the Chalice. But best of all would be magic _like_ the Chalice, magic of life and death. The Glanis Springs is just of life. There is only _one_ idea I’ve had…’ 

Even just turning his head was enough to make everything tumble, like the carriage was drunk. ‘Yes?’ _Of course she can do it; salvation at the eleventh hour from Rose, brilliant, dauntless Rose_ _…_   
  
Then she met his gaze and said, ‘It would take corrupting magic like the Springs with death.’ 

It was, perhaps, the only thought that could sober him enough to still the spinning and make him feel the biting cold beyond the carriage walls. ‘We can’t do that -’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘Nobody else dies for me,’ he rasped. ‘That’s the one rule, you can’t - nobody else dies for me.’ 

Neither said anything for a while, the carriage rattling along, and soon enough the world was gently spinning again and the cold of the outside, of the inevitable, fading away. But it didn’t go completely, and the one rule stretched out between them, nagging at him, until he looked at her and remembered. She was hunched on a stool by the bunk, head in her hands, smaller than he’d seen her in a long time. Colder. 

Again he had to search deep in himself to find his voice. ‘Castagnary. The other three…’ 

She brushed back a wild lock of damp hair. ‘They didn’t make it out of there. They’re dead, Scorpius, and I killed them.’ 

‘You didn’t have a choice,’ he rasped. ‘They’d have claimed the Styx otherwise, and then _far_ more than four people would be dead…’ _Even five, if this was my final chance._   
  
‘I know. I know I did what I had to do. I also know that Castagnary didn’t deserve to die. I also know I never even saw the _faces_ of the other three, let alone heard their names, let alone knew their _crimes_. But they needed stopping, and I didn’t know how to stop them, to save us, without killing them. So there it is. The right thing to do was to kill four people who didn’t necessarily deserve it.’ 

‘ _They_ put you in that situation. You don’t need to punish yourself.’ 

She looked up, dark eyes glinting through a veil of red firelight. ‘One way or another,’ she said, meeting his gaze, ‘I have to live with it. All of it. And that’s the hard part, isn’t it?’

* * 

It was a cool early evening after a scorching afternoon when Eva Saida’s life had changed forever. The streets of Algiers had been sun-soaked for so long that heat throbbed from the stones themselves, the air sizzling with the passing burn of summer. But early evening had meant more tourists out on the street, and that had meant all the more opportunities to pick a pocket. 

She’d selected her target because he walked with no care for his safety. He didn’t keep a hand to his belongings, he didn’t gauge the crowd before he moved through it, and while he walked like he knew where he was going, he hurried at such a rate she knew she could be long gone before he even noticed her. 

Or so she’d thought, and had been proven very wrong when she tried slipping a hand in a pocket, only to get her wrist seized by Prometheus Thane. He had been, she remembered, more astonished than angry. Adorned in spells as he was, he had expected to be overlooked and irrelevant to the Muggles on a foreign street, but only final magical protections had alerted him to an enterprising young girl trying to steal his coin pouch. It had proven, she learnt later, that she was a witch, unaffected by his anti-Muggle spells, and thus worthy of his attention. 

Everything had changed from that moment, but the one lesson Eva had taken away from the experience was that she was at her best when being quiet, and at her best when being overlooked. These were talents Thane had used for years, setting a girl under his tutelage to tasks to sneak in and out of places, perhaps being ignored in a crowd, perhaps being ignored in the shadows. It had changed again only when she was fourteen, only when she’d killed someone for Thane. That had been the unspoken change of circumstances, where she was no longer a discreet agent but a literal weapon in his arsenal. 

Today she was both, only the cause was not Thane’s. The cause was very certainly her own. 

She’d told Pretorius and Lockett that she sought Albus’ body to bring back to his family. It had not been a lie; they deserved that much closure. But it was not as important as the thudding mantra that hummed through her bones with every step as she slid through the darkened corridors of the Department of Magic, a ghost and a shadow. 

_Kill Erik Geiger._   
  
Vengeance was far, far sweeter. And vengeance did not require a return journey. 

The Thornweaver guarding the final stairwell hadn’t noticed her lining up a blast in the darkness, a Stun to punch through his protections and drop him in one go. It would have been easier with a Killing Curse, but she was too aware that if she took an extra moment, gave it a little more thought, she could drop him without lethal force. It felt lazy, crude to not. 

But the blast and his impact brought another of his compatriots coming to investigate, by which point she was up the stairs, around a corner near the body, and ready to slip behind the newcomer. He, too, didn’t see her coming before he was another crumpled heap on the paving stones. 

That left six. Six, including Geiger, not including whatever Inferi were left. 

There had been no sign of prisoners taken when the Council had claimed the site. They were likely dead or Portkeyed elsewhere, which she supposed made some sense if the building itself was not deemed secure. Pretorius and the Crime Bureau’s hold-out had ruined Erik Geiger’s perfect victory, and she would have felt a surge of satisfaction had she cared. 

She didn’t. How brilliant Geiger’s victory wasn’t meant nothing to her. It was going to end, one way or another 

Two more Thornweavers fell to her wand as she advanced down the corridors to the far lobby, and a trio of Inferi after them, through spell and by blade. She still held back on killing the Thornweavers, clumsy as they were for letting her get the drop on them. They had to suspect by now that their prisoners in the lower levels had escaped the building; it was the only way to explain how complacent their patrols were, how indifferent they had been at her shifting shadows. After all, if everyone was likely escaped, who was going to charge into the heart of the Thornweavers’ control single-handedly? 

_Nobody who wants to live to see the end._   
  
But that meant only four more Thornweavers, and when she peered around the edge of the corridor into the Department’s main lobby, she could see only two. Two, and neither of them were Erik Geiger. 

She’d been through the main lobby when they’d arrived, an astonishing domed room of shimmering marbles and silvers, so close to the surface that the sun could break through the glass in the ceiling. It cast criss-cross patterns across the pale, paved floor, reminding her of games played on those sun-soaked streets where she’d grown up. _Don_ _’t stand on the shadows,_ she remembered, and wasn’t sure why. 

The two weren’t looking her way, though, so she could hunker down to balance her centre, level her wand at the one on the left, and open up with a Blasting Curse that sent the Thornweaver flying across the lobby and into one of the marble columns. He hit stone, slid to the floor, and didn’t move. 

But she did, as the last Thornweaver whirled around, wand brandished and already bringing defences and hurling his own blasts. They were quick-fire, not that harmful, but she only needed to be staggered for a moment to be beaten and there were still two more out there somewhere, unaccounted for. 

_Including Geiger_. 

Magic rippled across the lobby, energy crackling against energy. She kept moving as she cast, because every spell she avoided by speed was one she didn’t have to focus a Shield for, was one she could counter-attack all the swifter. She threw a gout of fire to drive them back, dodged a slicing curse that would have taken her arm, hurled a Stun up high, forcing them to lift their wand to protect their face - 

And, their vision blocked, she whipped her wand down to blast the paving slabs at the Thornweaver’s feet. Masonry shattered and exploded upward, hurling her enemy off his feet, and as he hit his back on the ground, hard, she threw out an extra Stun to subdue him for good. 

Chunks of paving slabs rattled as they fell to the floor, dust and smoke wafting through the broad lobby, and Eva shifted her stance to a defensive guard. Shields rippled around her, ready and waiting for something else to strike; the lobby was a network of corridors shooting off to different corners of the Department, and with Geiger and the last Thornweaver and who-knew-how many Inferi out there, she couldn’t stand out in the open and be complacent. 

Then the voice came, that familiar voice, rolling across the lobby. ‘I’d put your wand down, Saida. Or this will end badly.’ 

He was somewhere to her left, around one of those corners. ‘You’re right, Geiger. So come on out and let me end it.’ 

‘I really, _really_ suggest you don’t hurl a blast at me the moment I show my face. You will, I _promise_ you, regret it.’ 

She only didn’t cast at the figure emerging into the lobby through the smoke and dust because she knew it would be a waste. Erik Geiger would have all the protections up she did, enough to absorb an opening blast. Much better to assess him, take time to work out where the last Thornweaver was, than kick off a fight where she didn’t have the full measure of the field. Of course, if she took too long, then that last Thornweaver would be in the perfect position to - 

And any tactical analysis dissipated when Erik Geiger emerged from the smoke with an arm wrapped around Albus Potter’s throat and his wand rammed under his chin. ‘See? I told you that you’d regret it.’ 

Eva’s chest seized up. ‘Al -’ 

He looked bruised but unharmed, though in no position to push back against Geiger, one of the few Thornweavers who _could_ rival him in size. ‘Eva, you need to _go_ -’ 

She snapped her eyes away from him and back to Geiger. ‘This is a trick.’ 

‘That would be a good trick, wouldn’t it? But, no. I lied. He’s far, far more valuable to me alive than dead. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t take chunks out of him here to make you surrender. That doesn’t mean I won’t kill him if you force my hand. I like my life more than yours.’ 

_Of course Geiger wouldn_ _’t kill such a valuable prisoner just to teach me a lesson_. Anger burnt in Eva, not at Geiger but at herself for being played like this. He had seen her weakness and he had manipulated her once, and now he was trying to do it again. So if she didn’t want to play into his hands, she had to anticipate his expectations and then flaunt them. 

_Negotiate. That_ _’s what you did before, that’s what he’ll expect you to do. Negotiate, or rant and rave, or generally be so distracted by Al being in danger that you don’t assess the rest of the situation._ Her gaze flickered back to Albus. There was no sign of his wand. There was no sign of his Invisibility Cloak.   
  
Magic sparked at the tip of her wand, not for a blast at Geiger, but to reinforce the hanging protective spells, layer them up like she’d seen Elijah Downing do years ago. Wards and warnings, shields upon shields so that no one, single spell could bring her down, not even if she didn’t see it coming, not even if it was cast by a Thornweaver in the Invisibility Cloak. Which meant the next trick was figuring out how to respond to this threat without letting Geiger or the last Thornweaver know she’d anticipated them. 

_Stay silent. Stay still. Listen_ \- 

She did hear the footstep. Because she was focusing, because it was close, and because it was right behind her. 

Immediately before a knife plunged into her back. 


	40. The Phantom Circle

Pain rippled up from the base of her spine and across like a wave, surging the breath out of her lungs, the heat from her body. Eva gasped for air that couldn’t come, then her legs gave way and she fell to her knees. She had to catch herself to not collapse entirely, but then those criss-crossed patterns on the paving stones were all she knew, swimming in and out of her vision as the rest of the world surged away. 

_Don_ _’t stand on the shadows._   
  
Albus was yelling, but she couldn’t hear the words in the rushing air, the sucking void of darkening spots appearing in front of her eyes, and it was all familiar, so familiar… 

The first breath she could draw, she almost spent on a laugh where irony would have hurt as much as a stab wound. It was only fair that she be undone by such a move. It was, after all, just how she’d killed Elijah Downing. 

‘You,’ Geiger was saying, his words coming to her as if through water, ‘ _aren_ _’t_ as useful a prisoner as him, though. Raskoph will reward me for stopping you, but he doesn’t need you alive for that.’ 

Alive. Alive, as blood seeped from her body, just like it had with Elijah Downing on that rooftop on Brillig Island. Where she’d killed him and, in a way, killed Eva Saida, too. But it hadn’t made her Lisa Delacroix, not really, and she’d still gone on to break trust, hurt Al… 

Al, who was still struggling in Geiger’s grip, who was as good as dead if she succumbed. 

_Didn_ _’t Downing take a lot less time to die?_   
  
She’d been precise with that stab. Picked where to strike, how hard; had twisted the knife and pinned him in place as he jerked and struggled and bled. But this was just one stab, lower than where she’d struck Downing, and then nothing. No follow-up. No twist. Most wizards wouldn’t _know_ how to hurt someone in such a mundane manner; they pointed their wands, they cast their spells. It took a true specialist in causing pain to know what killed someone and what didn’t, and she had been a true specialist. 

A true specialist who’d just been stabbed by an amateur. Again she almost laughed, but instead settled for collapsing on her front. 

It was very easy to make it look real. 

A shadow fell over her, and it wasn’t Geiger, who hadn’t moved. It was the Thornweaver who stabbed her. He’d tossed back the cloak, approached and with a sharp kick, sent her wand skidding from her grip. Fully visible he stood before her, wand lowered by his hand, and she remembered Albus commenting years ago how the Invisibility Cloak was great, but it could be uncomfortable to move in, restrictive to fight in. 

And why did he need to hide from her, after all? 

Her wand was gone. But the sword still twitched in her grip, and then it was moving before she was thinking. The blow of an enchanted, sharp metal edge that slashed across the Thornweaver’s knee was powered by that oldest instinct Eva could command. _Survive. Survive_. And, now, joined by something perhaps more powerful. _Save Al._

The Thornweaver screamed as she all but severed his leg. He collapsed as she rose, her teeth gritted against the pain of her wound, scowling against the spots in front of her eyes, and with fading strength she caught him. Not to save him, but to pull him against herself, let the blast from Geiger’s wand thud into _him_ , not her. He went limp, fell against her, and she stumbled, collapsing onto her back with the impact and the man’s weight, the sword dropping from her grasp. 

Which was when Albus elbowed Erik Geiger in the gut. 

_Move. Move._ Black spots flickered across the spinning, domed ceiling of the Department of Magic that was all she could see. Hot blood spilt across her, but she didn’t know if it was hers or the Thornweaver’s, who lay across her lower half. It didn’t matter much, because it still hurt, hurt. 

Geiger cursing, Albus yelling something incoherent. Albus had the element of surprise, perhaps, but Geiger was a big guy and he still had a _wand_ \- 

_Move -_   
  
She pushed the body on her aside just as Geiger pressed his wand to Albus’ gut and blasted him flying back across the lobby. Which put her in the perfect position to scrabble for the unconscious Thornweaver’s wand and send a Stun thudding into Geiger’s side. 

He staggered and she rolled onto one knee, hurling out another spell, she didn’t even _care_ which, and it collapsed his next shield. Then another spell, and another, and then she was on her feet and he was falling, hitting the lobby floor hard, wand rolling from his grip. He stirred only weakly as she stood before him, chest heaving with agonising breaths, stolen wand crackling with energy as she levelled it at his face. Whatever she’d hit Geiger with was enough to bewilder him, and he stared at her with uncomprehending eyes, tried to move a body that had taken such a hammering it would not, _could_ not obey his commands. 

‘I told you,’ she gasped, voice coming like it had been shredded with knives as badly as her body. ‘I told you I would march through all your Inferi, all your Thornweavers, all of your fury and your might. And I _told_ you that when I was done, you would _beg_ for me to kill you.’ 

She hadn’t cast the Cruciatus in so long. It had been a tool for so many circumstances, the perfect motivator. She had never enjoyed it before; she simply hadn’t _cared_ , had been so focused on her goal that she could summon the magic and wait dispassionately for the screaming to stop and the actual results to begin. But thinking of it now was like thinking of an old friend she hadn’t seen in an age, warm and comfortable and _right_ , and yes, for once, she could _enjoy_ this - 

Then Albus’ hand was at her forearm, a gentle touch that didn’t push her wand away, just brought her back from the fantasy and into reality. ‘Eva, you don’t need to do this.’ 

Her feet weren’t that steady, but she could still force her arm to stay level. She didn’t look at him, because it was easier to look at the weak, defeated Erik Geiger, and easier to hate him. If she didn’t hate him, she was going to have to do something else, and hate was far, far easier than the unknown. ‘I know,’ said Eva, and her old voice came out, the cold, dispassionate one. ‘I _want_ to.’ 

‘Right now, you do. But you’ll regret it. In a day, in a week, you’ll look back on this moment and you’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I know what I’m capable of more than you -’ 

‘You know what you _were_ capable of. You’re not that person any more. You’re better than that.’ His other hand came to her upper back, gentle, careful, and she wondered if he was trying to encourage her or make ready for when she passed out. It didn’t feel like that was so far away a prospect. 

So she had work to do in the meantime. ‘I’m _not_ better than that -’ 

‘You are now.’ 

‘I’ve killed _so many_ , he’s just one more. I killed Elijah Downing with a knife, and I killed Lisa Delacroix with a wand -’ 

‘And the last person you killed was the person you used to be. I see who you are now, and you don’t _need_ to do this.’ 

When her wand dropped, she told herself for a heartbeat that this was just because she’d been stabbed in the back. It was hard to keep a good posture and focus on a really _good_ doling out of pain when she was bleeding. She was just in no state to hurt Geiger, no state to fight, no state to really do _anything_. 

Except maybe look, at last, at Albus. At those bright green eyes, blazing with concern and, did she dare think it, affection? That honest brow furrowed by worry, his hand on her arm still close, careful. So all she could do then was prove she _was_ in a good enough state to hurl herself at him, hands coming to his cheeks so she could kiss him full on the lips. He rocked back, surprised by her and staggered from the fight and, when his arms snaked around her, mindful of her injury. 

‘I thought you were dead,’ she breathed against his lips once she’d pulled away. She had to collapse into his embrace, both so she could stand and so she could cling to him, tangible evidence that she was wrong. 

Her hands had smeared blood across his cheeks, which only made his anxious smile shine all the brighter. ‘Then why did you _come_?’ Al shook his head, sobering. ‘Never mind. You need to sit down so I can patch you up. Then we’ll truss up Geiger and get out of here; the IMC will be happy to get their hands on him.’ 

Eva nodded. ‘There’s a Portkey to Nairobi still at International Transportation,’ she said. Then passed out.

* * 

‘We’re going down there in _that_. Do you _want_ us to die?’ 

Selena was upset. She was in uncomfortable wellies, a waterproof winter coat that made her look like a giant marshmallow, with the freezing sea sloshing up the pebble beach and crashing over her ankles. The seaside was no place to visit in late November, so far as she was concerned - or, if it was the British seaside, _any_ time of year. But here they were, on the shores of one of the small islands off the west coast of Cornwall, with all the best and brightest minds of their research task force. Not to mention the Aurors stuck to her side like glue since Winchester. 

De Sablé waded out towards them. The tide was low, but the waves foamed around his knees, and had Selena been less miserable she would have found a Knight Templar Wizard in galoshes hilarious. 

There was _nothing_ hilarious about this beach. 

‘It’s safe, Miss Rourke,’ he assured her, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. The diving bell, a large metal sphere that looked more like a possible coffin than a vehicle for exploration, lurked in the shallows, waves crashing around it, ancient and cantankerous and heavy. ‘The finest in British maritime magics.’ 

She looked at Matt. ‘I thought you said wizards _suck_ at exploring the oceans?’ 

‘They do.’ He was bundled up against the cold and wet, too, but somehow managed to look like a rumpled explorer and not any kind of spongy sweet. ‘Which is why we only have the dirigible, not anything more sophisticated. But it won’t breach.’ He turned to de Sablé. ‘What did you find?’ 

De Sablé lifted his hands. ‘I would not have asked you down here if it were not impressive. Lowsley and Nejem agree. But they do not want to climb out of and then back into the dirigible.’ He pronounced the ‘g’ softly, accent creeping in. 

‘Well, if _Lowsley_ thinks it’s important -’ 

‘Let’s see,’ interrupted Matt. She had to accept that was probably fair, and she followed suit in pulling on waterproofs and waded out with him into the shallow tides. 

Then she was aware of another of the shore party, ready to receive the dirigible and record its results and guard the area, wading out with her, and she looked back to see her Auror bodyguard. ‘Jennings, there is _barely_ going to be enough room for the five of us in that thing before you join in.’ 

Auror Jennings’ anxious face creased. ‘But I’m supposed to offer you security, ma’am, like in Cardigan.’ 

In Cardigan Bay, looking for some sign of Cantref Gwaelod, on foot and on a little speedboat that had made her want to throw up, the biggest contribution Jennings had made was to hold her ice cream while she pinned her hair back. ‘Who’s going to abduct me at the bottom of the ocean? Really, if you were taking bodyguarding seriously, you’d stop me from getting _into_ this death trap.’ 

‘But -’ 

‘That’s not an order, I’m going. And I’m with an immortal wizard knight; that is _far_ more badass than you.’ 

Auror Jennings wilted like she’d been soaked by one of the waves, but didn’t stop Selena as she waded out to join Matt and de Sablé by the huge spherical dirigible. It sat, heavy and still on the sand, the waves coming up to their waists by now. De Sablé gave Matt a leg-up to the hatch, high at the top of the dirigible and accessible by a ladder that didn’t quite reach far down enough. Selena drew a hissing breath as she watched Matt’s prosthetic struggle with the ladder, then he got a foot on the rungs and carried on and she pretended she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t worried. He wouldn’t thank her. She scrabbled up after him, with de Sablé’s, help to the top of the fifteen feet high spherical contraption, and when she swung through the hatch inside, her stomach lurched. 

‘Oh God, we’re all going to die in here.’ 

Matt helped steady her as she landed, but he looked beyond thrilled to be stood in this confined space, a spherical chamber adorned with control knobs and levers and brass panels and tiny portholes framed by thick metal and hefty bolts. To him, Selena reasoned, this was probably an _adventure_. To her, it was a death trap. 

‘Welcome,’ drawled Nejem, sat on one of the metal-backed chairs before a control panel, ‘to the fevered nightmares of Jules Verne.’ 

‘Who’s he? Did he design this? I hate him.’ 

‘This,’ said Matt, awed, ‘is _brilliant_.’ 

‘Yes, well. You’ll be more impressed when we get there,’ said Nejem. Lowsley sat next to him, head in his hands, looking pale. Nejem elbowed him. ‘Perk up, old boy, you won’t feel so sick once we’re underwater.’ 

‘I won’t feel nauseous from movement when we’re underwater,’ Lowsley groaned. ‘I _will_ feel nauseous from _fear_.’ 

‘Look at it this way; we go down with the Captain this time.’ Nejem jerked his head at Matt. 

‘ _That doesn_ _’t help._ ’ 

De Sablé appeared through the hatch, hanging above them for a moment to close it before he dropped to land on the deck with a clatter. ‘Shall we be about it?’ 

Selena made a bee-line for the only chair left and strapped herself in. ‘This had better be worth it.’ 

Lowsley groaned. ‘I hate to say it. But it really might be. I just hope it’s worth me throwing up on you, too.’ 

‘Trust me,’ said Selena, fiddling with buckles as Nejem reached for the dirigible’s controls, ‘unless we find the exclusive Weird Sisters reunion concert down there, it will _not_ be worth _that_.’

* * 

They crested the final rise to see Helluby laid out before them, like twinkling galleons dropped on black velvet, and Rose let out a sigh of relief. ‘People are still there.’ 

‘Or the entire place is still on fire.’ 

From this vantage point at the front of their sleigh at the top of this hill, she could see Helluby was a wreck. Buildings were burnt-out husks or had been ripped apart, but some still stood, and it was from there that the light gleamed. Squinting through the gloom showed movement, but it wasn’t the frozen white hides of Inferi, their loping advance. They were witches and wizards bundled against the cold, and her heart soared when she saw the white tents set up at the outskirts, the tarps covering holes in buildings. Just like the aid work in Hogsmeade. 

So her relief was short-lived, as they urged the elks down the slope towards the settlement. Even if the IMC were here and helping, they were only here because people were _dead_. 

‘I wonder if it’s your mother’s charity,’ she mused, then remembered what Castagnary had said and bit her tongue. 

Scorpius sighed. ‘Maybe, but they were in Durban. Who knows.’ 

Silence reigned for long moments, the hoof-beats of their elks and the hissing of the sleigh on ice as they descended at a gentle pace. ‘What’re you going to do about that?’ she said at last. 

‘I don’t know. Talk to her, I guess. If I get the chance.’ 

He looked abashed once he’d said that, and she suspected he hadn’t meant to remind her of his limited time. But it was feeling all the more churlish to ignore such a reality, even if Rose was less ready to give up than ever. She reached for the reins to turn the sleigh towards the biggest gathering of tents and light, and felt something solid inside her pockets. ‘What’s…’ She’d not paid much attention to her big coat, with the fighting and the fleeing, but now she reached inside a pocket to pull out the hefty, worn, leather pouch. The moment it was in her hand, she felt cold. ‘Oh. This was - I got this off Cassian’s body.’ 

Scorpius took it, and tugged at the thronging. ‘Probably just some coin. Look at us, looting the dead.’ He didn’t even try to sound wry, and huffed when he looked inside. ‘Yeah. Some galleons and - huh, what’s this?’ 

Rose looked over as he pulled out a rock the size of his fist with an etching on it. ‘Bet you it’s magic.’ 

He gave her a sliver of a silver smile. ‘That’s my line.’ 

‘But seriously, it looks like the ward-stones you get in the Ministry and the DMLE HQ. The ones which let the carrier Apparate into the appropriately warded places. I can figure out where this one lets you in.’ 

‘Probably Niemandhorn. We can break in and… listen to super boring Convocation sessions.’ He slipped the stone into the pouch and passed it back. ‘I’ll send the journal and powder to Bachelet. I think he’d want her to have it, now.’ 

‘That’ll be a comfort,’ Rose muttered, and only once the words were past her lips did she realise she’d said that out loud. He looked surprised, so she sighed. ‘Alright, yes, I’m projecting, but I _bet_ she would have much preferred to go with him than be left behind so he could go missing and never be seen again. And, who knows, maybe together they could have _beaten_ Raskoph -’ 

‘Oh, thank _Merlin_ ,’ Scorpius growled. ‘We’re here.’ 

She drew the sleigh up as they reached the white tents at the outskirts of Helluby, lit up by lanterns and a huge, roaring fire in the open. Figures had come out to greet them, relief workers wearing badges of the IMC, and so they disembarked into a wave of witches and wizards first making sure they weren’t a threat and then, once identified, breaking into a fuss of checking up on them, asking questions. They did their best to explain what they could of the Helluby disaster while, Rose noted, not explaining their full mission or that they were, sort of, responsible for the Council’s attack in the first place. 

The death count was high but not complete, and the IMC had been there for the last couple of days to help the injured and infected, destroy the Inferi, and begin the rebuilding work on this ancient magical settlement that might never recover. 

But within five minutes there were footsteps thudding into the crowd, relief workers pushed aside, and before Rose even noticed a newcomer there was a flurry of wild hair and she was pulled into a maddened embrace. ‘Rose! Don’t _do_ that to me!’ 

Rose couldn’t answer her mother because she was being smothered, but she returned the hug. It gave her a chance to mask her surprise - but of course Hermione had come out here, of course she’d lead the relief and the search for her daughter personally, because after all they’d been through, after all the near-misses, there was no way her mother was going to leave anything like this in someone else’s hands. She would want it to be done right. She would want to be sure. 

Still, she had to claw at the embrace to pull back for air, to look her mother in the eye and give her a firm, reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Rose Weasley, master of hypocrisy, ‘I told you I’d come back.’

* * 

‘So this is exciting,’ said Selena, looking through the dirigible’s porthole at the gloomy depths of the ocean’s floor. 

‘We’re getting there,’ said Nejem, taut. ‘It’s not a _quick_ journey.’ 

‘I know, we had to wait for you to surface, and it was cold up there.’ 

‘It’s not a barrel of laughs down here,’ Lowsley groaned, still a bundled mess on his chair. 

That, Selena had to admit, made her more likely to believe there was something worth seeing at this reef. Lowsley was the wettest blanket she’d ever met, but he’d not scrambled for the shore when they’d surfaced. He’d stayed on board and insisted they should stick it out, even if it made him miserable. 

‘There it is,’ said de Sablé, much to her relief, and pointed at the viewport. ‘Does that look like a reef to either of you?’ 

Matt, stood next to him, leaned forwards. ‘We should be _at_ the reef now.’ 

There was no surging spire of rock or coral or whatever a reef was - Selena was a little hazy on that point. Certainly nothing stabbed up out of the ocean floor to scrape across the hulls of unsuspecting Muggle vessels, send them sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Whatever was down here wasn’t tall enough to threaten ocean ships. 

‘Those look like _walls_ ,’ she said. 

‘Indeed. Outer walls. You can still see a gatehouse,’ said de Sablé, sounding almost wistful. ‘And it carries on.’ 

‘When we first got here, the dirigible’s controls tried to steer us away,’ explained Nejem. ‘I had to really concentrate to get us back on course. I bet most Muggle ships find themselves taking a detour. The ships themselves would try to go around, and the Muggle sailors wouldn’t even think twice about it.’ 

‘So how come some _sank_?’ said Selena. 

Matt shrugged, eyes not tearing away from the approach to the underwater ruins. ‘Particularly bad weather might drive them off-course, whatever the wards do. If a Muggle was hell-bent on going straight across to make up for lost time, maybe they’d force their way through the wards, especially if these are fifteen hundred years old. I wouldn’t be surprised if magical defences might then try to tear the hulls of outsiders apart.’ 

‘…are they going to tear _us_ apart?’ 

‘They didn’t last time,’ said Nejem. ‘And we went very far in.’ 

Matt leaned forwards and looked up, peering towards the surface. They couldn’t see it from down here, especially on such an overcast day. ‘We’re quite deep,’ he said. ‘But a magical city might have had protections not just against Muggles finding the place, but against aerial assaults. I wonder if those persist, I wonder if they’re interfering with any ships passing over.’ 

‘You’re saying we’re safer because we’re approaching at what would have been the ground level?’ said Selena. 

‘How lucky of us,’ said Nejem. ‘I will keep _low_.’ 

They drifted through the watery depths, across the ocean floor and bobbing only just over the ruinous remains of the outer walls. Selena, despite her better judgement, unbuckled her seat and moved to stand next to Matt, peering through the porthole. ‘What does that look like to you?’ she murmured. 

‘Old,’ he said, then blushed. ‘I mean - that level of architectural sophistication shouldn’t have been seen in Wales or Cornwall until five centuries after this place probably sank. But it’s still different to the Welsh castles the English constructed. It’s a little like Carolingian castles but… but not quite. It’s all _off_.’ 

‘Makes you wonder who gave the Muggles these engineering ideas,’ she pointed out, and he nodded - but didn’t take his gaze off the porthole, transfixed. She smothered a smile and reached for his hand, entwining their fingers. He squeezed back but still didn’t look at her, and this time she didn’t succeed at hiding her smile. 

‘So you can see it’s not just an outer wall,’ Nejem narrated as he guided the dirigible onward. ‘A lot of bits inside are flattened, but we’ve got _houses_ , boss, and _streets_ \- this is a whole bloody city! It’s not very big, but it’s a castle town so -’ 

‘Take us to the temple, Nejem,’ urged de Sablé. 

‘Oh - right, right. But, I mean, boss, we could study this place for a _lifetime_. You’re going to be a bloody legend in wizarding archaeology.’ 

‘You found the place,’ said Matt, hushed. 

‘Only because you sent us here.’ Nejem’s hands roved over the controls, and their little dirigible bobbed through broken streets of shattered houses. Seaweed and ocean life had encrusted across the ruins of this sunken city, so details were difficult to make out, but it looked to Selena like any medieval town she’d walked through. If, of course, massively ruined and dunked at the bottom of the sea. ‘Most of this is really broken up,’ Nejem continued. ‘But we had some magical signatures to search for - or, Sir Reynald did - and they led us to this western district. It’s a bit away from the main keep, but the buildings are less broken down.’ 

Shadows still rippled on this ocean floor, masses of seaweed or even clouds high above blocking out what little sunlight might creep through. But as Selena stared at their heading, she realised the darkness on this western part of the ruins was perfectly still, uncaring of gaps in the sunshine, and she felt a chill run down her spine. 

_No time to waste. This is only the first quarter. But you will be alright?_   
  
_My Patronus is fine, Methuselah, I promise. I_ _’ll hold this spot. You go on._   
  
Her breath caught, and Matt’s hand tightening around hers felt, for a heartbeat, like a constriction instead of a reassurance. But she forced herself to relax, blink away that memory she’d not let herself linger on in so long. ‘What the hell is this place?’ 

‘The heart of everything, Miss Rourke,’ said de Sablé gently. ‘Where gathered the worshippers of Arawn, God of the Otherworld in this city. Perhaps the people who doomed it to the oceans. Or perhaps not; ultimately that doesn’t matter. It is what we seek.’ 

‘ _Long is the day,_ ’ muttered Matt, ‘ _and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn._ ’ 

‘You’re just full of ominous comments to make everything seem creepy and more historic, aren’t you?’ said Selena, sharper than she meant. 

‘Worry not, Miss Rourke,’ said de Sablé. ‘We have been here before and, while the place is unsettling, it is safe.’ 

‘It had better be. Because if we get underwater Dementors, this is going to be a _shitty_ day.’ 

Lowsley lifted his head, eyes bloodshot. ‘ _Underwater Dementors?_ ’ 

‘Easy,’ said Matt, voice gentler, and he squeezed Selena’s hand again. ‘You’ve done this before. You can do it again. Show us, please.’ 

Nejem bit his lip, but nodded and steered the dirigible onward. He began to angle it down, bearing for what Selena could now see was one of the few buildings that was not just a ruin. It was a low and squat structure, wide and flat, but the doorway was huge and dove down, onward into darkness. ‘The temple keeps on going underground,’ he said. ‘But you’ll see what caught our eye in the entranceway.’ 

Selena looked up as the dirigible reached the archway of carved stone, bigger than it looked at a distance. Nothing here had been settled by sea fauna or even flora, the rock bare and pale and untouched by time or erosion. ‘Oh, there it is,’ she mumbled as the dirigible passed through the huge entranceway to the temple. ‘I hate that swirly pattern.’ 

Matt grimaced as he followed her gaze. ‘It’s been a useful guide.’ 

‘And we are at last making some sense of it,’ said de Sablé. 

Selena bit back an unhelpful comment. She might have been prepared to take Matt down a peg or two, but de Sablé, she reasoned, had been searching for answers about the Chalice and its nature for almost a thousand years. Mocking him felt cruel. So instead she shuffled closer to Matt, let his presence seep through her to dismiss the chill in her gut and the whispering at the back of her mind, and tried to not feel like a traitor. 

‘Can you understand that writing?’ asked Matt as they emerged into a wide, open, rounded chamber. The inside walls were just as untouched by the ravages of time or waters, and the parts that weren’t covered in that swirling, stylised markings that had followed the Chalice everywhere were etched with markings Selena would have assumed were just further decorations. 

‘I can pick up the odd word,’ said Nejem. ‘We didn’t look too close. You’ll see why in a minute, and then you’ll want to get out your wands because the magical signatures here are absolutely crazy, and I know for sure that the writing on the wall will be the _least_ of your interests.’ 

He pulled the dirigible up, closer to the ceiling of the chamber, and Selena’s breath caught as she saw what lay at the centre below. It was like a wide, round basin, except there was no reason for the surface to shimmer like water because they were already under the ocean. And the sea’s surface didn’t shimmer like that, with dark wisps and swirling shapes seeping in and out of sight, all greys and shadows and echoes. ‘That’s a Veil.’ 

‘Yes,’ said de Sablé. ‘It most certainly is. A passageway between realms, in the very heart of a temple to Arawn, master of the Otherworld - or those are the myths and legends by which wizards and witches of the time would choose to understand life and death and the magics thereof. You will want to feel your way through the magics humming through this place, Matthias, even if they are only echoes of what has once been,’ he continued, nodding to Matt. ‘You will find them most familiar. Life and death in one, intricately wound together.’ 

Matt reached for his wand. ‘Just like the Chalice.’ 

‘Only more so. I’m quite sure of it, gentlemen, Miss Rourke.’ De Sablé straightened like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, but in the gloomy light of the dirigible’s controls and its external lanterns, there was a furrow to his brow as if fresh worries had come to take its place. ‘This is where the Chalice of Emrys was made.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: ‘Long is the day, and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn,’ is Matt reciting a traditional saying from the Cardigan area. And being a pretentious little sod._


	41. Touching Other Worlds

‘The Portkey back to England’s due tomorrow morning,’ said Hermione, ducking through the white canvas flap and into the bunkroom. ‘The IMC’s now offering refuge to some of the survivors, so they’ll be coming through with you, too. Where’s Scorpius?’ 

Rose had to work to tear her gaze away from the flickering fire in the centre of the tent. Her mother had brought a flash of Helluby’s chill with her, even if the magical tent did a fine job of chasing back the arctic frost. ‘He went for a walk. He’s got some thinking to do.’ 

‘I can imagine.’ Hermione’s lips thinned. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t find an answer.’ 

‘We didn’t _expect_ one. We just… we hoped.’ Rose rested her chin in her hands, eyes returning to the fire. ‘Or I hoped. And when it turned out we might be chasing the Styx, I thought…’ 

Her mother crossed the secluded bunkroom to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘I don’t know what comes next, but is it really over?’ 

‘You mean you want to give me support or encouragement but not false hope. But I don’t know. I really don’t.’ With a shuddering breath that took with it most of the iron-tight, determined strength of the past few days, Rose slumped against her mother, eyes closing. ‘I know what I need, but I don’t know how to make it happen in any way anyone could possibly live with.’ 

Hermione’s hold tightened. ‘You’re right. We do need to be able to live with our actions. _And_ our circumstances. Maybe you’ve been desperate, Rose, but I’ve seen you more alive these past weeks than you’ve been in years.’ 

‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him. I don’t _want_ to go back to how I was before, but that’s easier said than done, isn’t it? And after _everything_ …’ Her eyes opened. ‘Have you sent people to Ultima Thule?’ 

‘We will, once we’re done with Helluby. But if it’s as much of a collapse as you suggested, that could take months of excavation. Maybe even years if it’s entangled with magical defences. The passages under Alexandria are _still_ being unravelled.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Rose sighed. ‘I guess that means Castagnary and the others really _are_ dead.’ 

‘Rose -’ 

‘I had to stop them from getting the Styx. And we had to escape them, or _we_ were going to be dead. We couldn’t fight them head-to-head, not in a narrow space like that when outnumbered, and so I knew I’d be lucky if I could get one blast off. I knew it would kill them. I knew it would _probably_ collapse the tunnel. I didn’t know what else to do.’ 

Her mother kissed the top of her head. ‘I don’t know what else you could have done, either.’ 

‘But does that make it right? Not seeing another way except killing? Maybe I should have waited for a better chance, to do something else - I mean - _you_ got through a war without killing people…’ 

‘But not without Imperiusing them, or hurting them, or ruining the odd life along the way,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘And sometimes, it was just luck that meant we didn’t get anyone killed. I was never in a situation like yours. I never _had_ to make that kind of a choice. But I had to make similar ones.’ There was a pause, Rose not knowing what to say and sensing there was more coming from the tension in her mother’s shoulders. ‘There was one point where your father, Harry and I had a pair of Death Eaters Stunned and at our mercy. Your father said we could kill them - he didn’t want to, but they had tried to kill us, and who knew who they’d go on to kill? But Harry pointed out Voldemort would know they’d found us; far, far better to send them back with altered memories. It was compassionate, but it was also _efficient_.’ 

‘You had a choice,’ said Rose. 

‘We did. But one of those Death Eaters was Antonin Dolohov. Eight months later, he killed Remus, Teddy’s father, in the Battle of Hogwarts.’ She could feel her mother’s flinch. ‘It’s not like we could have known. It’s not like we could execute him for something that hadn’t happened yet. But Dolohov had killed a _lot_ of people. Clearly _would_ go on to hurt people. And while it was logical to alter his memories, was it _really_ more moral to let him go, knowing what he’d probably do? We hold killing as some absolute evil that should be avoided no matter the circumstances. But I think the world can be a bit more complicated than that.’ 

Rose stayed silent in the wake of this revelation, mind fizzing over Teddy, over the tales she’d heard of the Battle and his parents. ‘Castagnary didn’t want to do what he was doing,’ she said at last. ‘He signed up for the Council, yes, but I remember him in Egypt. He was nasty, but he had no interest in getting us killed. Maybe in letting us stumble into dangerous circumstances, but he wasn’t the kind of man to set Lethe off. I think he _hated_ taking us prisoner back there. He knew it would mean our deaths, and he wasn’t going to _save_ us, stop his superiors…’ 

‘Most of our enemies aren’t terrible people. They’re weak people or helpless people or slightly nasty people _led_ by terrible people. They don’t have the will or the wits or the means to stand up to them.’ 

‘Castagnary pointed something out about what Thane and Scorpius did,’ said Rose, throat tight. ‘He pointed out the Council had a lot of leaders a year ago. Krauser, Voigt, Horn. Thane’s campaign to cripple the Council took out a lot of those figures, but he failed to kill Raskoph. So with the others gone, Raskoph took charge, and Raskoph was the one who pushed to be more extreme. To be less political, less manipulative, and to just _kill_ people. They didn’t hurt the Council. They _sharpened_ it.’ 

Hermione gave a long, pained groan. ‘Thane and Scorpius helped save Selena. So I have no idea why they’d do that if they were secretly propping Raskoph _up_. But I’ll send word to Niemandhorn, have them question Thane about this.’ Then she sighed again, but it was a different, more aggrieved noise. ‘If Lillian Rourke lets them.’ 

Rose sat up. ‘Lets them?’ 

‘Oh, she won’t _stop_ them. But she has control over more or less everything now.’ Hermione’s expression pinched. ‘Evidence came to her of corruption around Minister Halvard’s office. She arrested most of his staff, he’s resigned, and she’s acting Minister. As well as Chairman of the IMC.’ 

‘But that’s… I don’t know how to feel about that.’ 

‘It’s a lot of power in one person’s hands.’ 

‘Sharing power only seems to make us open to exploitation by the Council.’ Rose paused. ‘There’s more. Castagnary said he was there when Scorpius was brought back. I think he found the Veil in Tibet. But he said Scorpius’ mother was there.’ 

Hermione murmured something Rose was sure was a curse that would get her told off. ‘She’s on her way back from South Africa right now. The trouble’s being resolved there…’ 

Rose sat up. ‘Albus is okay?’ 

‘He’s fine. Despite scaring us almost as much as _you two_ did. He’s in the relief station in Nairobi and he’s perfectly alright. Saida too.’ Hermione made a small noise of exasperation. ‘They’re better than fine, in fact. Positively heroic.’

* * 

Drifting in and out of consciousness while surrounded by babbling languages she only mostly understood was like being dunked in water over and over. One moment she surfaced, vision clear and bright, comprehending everything around her; the next all was dark, sounds nothing but rushing air. But every time she broke the surface, she hurt a little less. 

It was impossible to say how long she’d been there, tossed in a storm of confusion, injury, and - as became increasingly apparent - a cocktail of healing spells and potions. But bright sunlight broke from above and onto her cot by the time Eva Saida crawled back into coherent thought. 

She was just one of many in what looked like an old Muggle hangar, the sun blazing through the skylights in the metal roof that curved over them like a broad, protective embrace. Looking from right to left showed row upon row of hard cots, each of them occupied by a witch or wizard in varying degrees of medical distress. There wasn’t much variety in the nature of their wounds. Slashes and bites from an Inferius’ claws or teeth were distinctive. 

But they lived and breathed and so were likely not in serious risk for some hours yet, based on the temperament of the Healers rushing to and fro. They were the ones speaking in the babble of languages, in varying states of fatigue and scruff, and a glance at the banners hanging on the walls eased one of the last twists in Eva’s gut. International Magical Convocation. Whatever this place might be, it was _not_ a Council holding. 

She sat up and looked down at herself. Her clothes were still the practical travel garb from the original trip to Johannesburg, though reaching for her lower back revealed the slash in the shirt and bare skin that was warm to the touch. It did not, at least, hurt. 

‘Oh, hey, you’re up - should you be up?’ 

Eva tried to not spin too fast at the voice, and then tried to not beam like an idiot at the sight of a bedraggled Albus Potter approaching the cot, holding a steaming polystyrene cup. She settled for a thin, pleased smile instead. ‘I’m alright. How long was I out?’ 

‘About a day. They put you on some heavy duty potions so you’d sleep the whole thing off and they could worry about, uh, everyone else.’ The cot next to hers was empty, so Al pulled it over and perched on the edge, careful so his weight didn’t catapult it. ‘We’re in Nairobi - or, well, just out of it. Kenya’s opened its doors to South African refugees, so we’re getting everyone who made it out of Durban, out of the other attacks on Cape Town, too. Anyone who fled the country.’ 

‘The Council’s repeated their tactics in Greece?’ She shook her head as Al offered her the coffee. She didn’t think she could manage a hot drink, and she didn’t trust relief station coffee. 

‘More or less. Durban’s got the biggest magical population, so attacking there hurt and scared people and drew attention away from the government infrastructure. And Geiger _did_ capture and kill a whole lot of important people in Cape Town before he was stopped.’ Albus gave a small, smug smile. ‘We got him, though. He’s in holding, with the best Legilimens in the world going over him.’ 

‘You did well.’ 

He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘ _I_ got myself captured by being soft,’ he said, though didn’t sound at all guilty. ‘Really, you should hear how Pretorius and Judge Roux are talking about what happened. It sounds like you single-handedly cleared the evac route, through Thornweavers and all their Inferi, and then personally marched up to the lobby to save me and capture the ringleader.’ 

‘That’s… _a_ way of describing it.’ Eva’s expression pinched. It was hard to not be suspicious about such a glowing report. ‘Did Goyle get out of there?’ 

‘He did. He was in quarantine for a bit, and now he’s in holding, but Pretorius vouched for us. He’s our prisoner. I was just going to go talk to him, in fact.’ 

Eva pushed herself to her feet and was relieved when her legs cooperated. ‘Then let’s go.’ 

Al almost spilt coffee over himself by standing too quickly. ‘Are you sure -’ 

‘If I’ve been out for a day after a scratch like that, I’ll be fine. Goyle was the job. We should finish the job.’ It was easier to think about than the talk of heroics. It was easier to think about than his easy smile, relaxed manner, than thinking about how afraid she’d been for him, how _empty_ she’d been for losing him, how she’d so thoughtlessly kissed him… 

They marched down the row of cots and Healers without incident, though here and there someone gave them a respectful nod, or cleared the way. Every time, Eva glanced to Albus, expecting him to be the cause of this deference, and every time she realised that the respect was falling to them both - or just to _her_. 

_This could be a problem._   
  
The IMC had claimed some abandoned old Muggle airfield outside of Nairobi, and they emerged from the hangar into blazing sunshine and a field of tarmac, tents, prefab structures, and run-down buildings. However long they’d been here, Albus obviously knew his way around, and led her through the network of hustle and bustle. 

‘South Africa is officially Council territory now,’ he said as they walked. ‘They found some mid-level Division head who’s either been coerced or was always a Council flunky, and they’re the new President and publicly declaring allegiance to Raskoph and his new world order. The concern is Botswana and Zimbabwe are going to be next, though the Council is going to have to work hard to keep its defences on multiple fronts.’ 

‘Unless something’s changed, their hold on Greece hasn’t weakened at all,’ Eva said. ‘And they had no concerns about opening up another front down here. Inferi only inflate their numbers with every massacre.’ 

‘The IMC’s in a position to do more, though.’ Albus glanced meaningfully over his shoulder before he added, ‘Seeing as Lillian Rourke’s arrested most of Minister Halvard’s staff for corruption or treason and the Minister himself has resigned over the scandal.’ 

She kept her expression measured. ‘Oh?’ 

‘Yeah. Someone got me the _Daily Prophet_ down here. Started with the arrest of one Amadeus Candlestone?’ 

‘I don’t think he was a traitor. I think he was a corrupt idiot who took bribes and didn’t pay too much attention to what was going on.’ Eva sighed. ‘If you’re asking, yes, I sent my findings straight to Niemandhorn before we left.’ 

‘To _Niemandhorn_?’ 

‘Candlestone seemed capable of tugging on the right threads to find the traitors in the Ministry, but someone had to do that tugging. Anyone I know who’s trustworthy in the Auror Office is in Greece. I thought my name might get Lillian Rourke to at least read a message from me, and maybe outside investigation would do the trick.’ 

Albus fell into step with her, honest brow creased. ‘Did you, with one letter, bring down the Ministry of Magic?’ 

‘It seems Lillian Rourke brought down the Ministry. Which sounds like a good thing to me, as it was corrupt or inept or treasonous. I don’t _care_ if she’s taken over Britain; she clearly runs the world already. Or, the bits the Council doesn’t run.’ Eva paused. ‘You disapprove?’ 

‘Not at all. I’m impressed.’ But then they’d reached a tent flanked by a pair of wizards wearing the IMC crest. The guards recognised Albus, and let them through after a brief exchange. The large tent was broken into compartments by sheets of canvas, though Eva could feel the magic crackling off the simple cloth, and Albus carried on down a long aisle. 

‘Makeshift cells,’ he explained. ‘Only for low security prisoners. Anyone dangerous or important, like Geiger, was shipped out ASAP.’ 

He stopped at only the fourth compartment down, and pushed the flap open to let her step inside. Gregory Goyle was sat on a cot which looked a lot like the one she’d recuperated on, and his sloped, craggy features split into relief at the sight of her. He stood quickly. ‘Oh, _good_. You’re here, now we can get this over and done with.’ 

Eva looked at Albus as he joined her. ‘You waited for me?’ 

‘ _You_ found him. And freed him. And I wasn’t leaving Kenya without you.’ Albus shrugged. ‘But he’s our prisoner now, to do with as we wish.’ 

‘You should have got him back to Britain,’ Eva sighed. 

‘That wouldn’t do you any good,’ Goyle said in a rush. ‘Not if you want to find Draco Malfoy.’ 

‘I don’t think he’s in Britain,’ said Eva. ‘I think you can tell us where he is.’ 

Goyle winced. ‘I can’t.’ 

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘After the week I’ve had, I have no qualms about finding the best Legilimens in the place -’ 

‘Actually,’ said Albus, ‘our contract gives us the right to do that ourselves.’ 

‘I can’t tell you,’ Goyle blurted, ‘because I don’t _know_.’ 

‘He _funds_ you,’ said Eva, exasperated. 

‘He does.’ Goyle lifted his hands. ‘Let me explain. I owe you that, I do. I’m no bloody friend to the Council. If you hadn’t bust us all out of Cape Town, _I_ was in for a bad day. Seeing as the Council, _they_ _’re_ furious at Draco, and yes, I’ve been helping him, but I think they’d ask me questions a lot less nice than you do!’ 

‘I don’t know.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I may have used up my niceness.’ 

‘He sends me money. Because I pick up odds and ends for him and make sure his little business interests tick over while he’s in hiding. But he’s not dumb enough to send me as his agent in the world and tell me where he is.’ 

‘If you’re telling me all of this was a waste of time -’ 

‘I _can_ find out where he is. We have drop-offs, I can ask to set up a meeting, I can - I can get you to him.’ 

Albus stepped up. ‘You two were friends since childhood. Why’re you selling him out?’ 

‘I’m…’ Goyle licked his lips. ‘I don’t want to get picked up by the Council. They’ll torture me and then they’ll kill me; I’m _done_ with politics and wars. One war was enough! But if I help you out, if I cooperate with the IMC, the Ministry, that helps me, right? You’ll put in a good word for me?’ 

Albus made a low noise of frustration. ‘We’ll do what we can for you. But I can’t just let you go.’ 

Eva looked at him. ‘Do you want me to check if he’s lying?’ He gave a pained nod, and she gestured for Goyle to sit down. ‘Clear your mind. Relax. And if I even suspect you’re using Occlumency, I will not be gentle.’ It was mostly a lie. Her Legilimens was not sophisticated enough to crack decent defences, but her Occlumency was good enough to recognise it when it was being used. She gambled that Gregory Goyle, businessman of no good reputation, had not the mental discipline to stand up to her, and certainly to not do so discreetly. 

But Goyle cooperated, and then her wand was sweeping across his brow - 

The flashes were short, sharp, simple. The fear that ran through everything was bitter enough to taste, and familiar enough to churn her stomach. This man was a survivor, but one who ran instead of fighting back, and all he was doing now was trying to run again. But… 

‘He’s not lying,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t know where Malfoy is. He thinks he can find him.’ 

‘Let me go, give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll send you word,’ Goyle said eagerly. ‘It’ll be best for _him_ , too, he’s upset too many of the Council. They will _kill_ him, and he’s stubborn, he hides, but he’s going to have to face the music sometime.’ 

‘How do we know we can trust you?’ said Albus. ‘You might mean it now, but if we let you go, there’s nothing to stop you from running, or even _warning_ him…’ 

Goyle looked around frantically - then lifted his hand. ‘I’ll promise it,’ he blurted. ‘An Unbreakable, I’ll promise it. Let me go, and I’ll give you Draco Malfoy.’

* * 

‘Here we go.’ Matt grinned as he finished the last of the ritual markings. ‘Let’s hope we don’t blow a hole in Swindon.’ 

‘Is that really a problem?’ said Nejem. 

Lowsley stepped towards the cellar door. ‘Is that really a _risk_?’ 

‘The boss is being melodramatic. Calm down.’ Nejem glanced to Matt. ‘You _are_ being melodramatic, yes?’ 

‘I genuinely don’t want to blow a hole in Swindon. Even if it _is_ Swindon.’ Matt dusted his hands off. ‘But we’re experimenting with an ancient artifact and seeing what manipulates its magic output. Who knows what could happen?’ 

‘You sound,’ said Nejem, ‘altogether _far_ too happy about this. Should we really be doing this in the middle of a city?’ 

‘This is the best place.’ Shadows shifted as de Sablé peeled himself off the wall and padded towards the ritual circle. ‘The Chalice has been here for weeks. It is enough to begin to warp the world around itself. It will be more susceptible to shifts in the environment here.’ 

‘Or we could go to its resting place in the Catacombs of Paris, but I’m not going to France to experiment.’ Matt wagged his wand at de Sablé in agreement. ‘And don’t worry about it. Getting any kind of result is going to be lucky enough. Let alone a disastrous one.’ 

Lowsley sighed, and flipped open his notebook. ‘So, beginning tests. What’s the plan, Boss?’ 

Matt looked at the containment circle he’d drawn in the cellar under his warehouse and placed the Chalice of Emrys in the middle of. It was a dingy and cold room, and not where he’d envisioned making breakthroughs that could change the face of magic across the world. But it was what he had. ‘Inscriptions in the Temple of Arawn in Cantref Gwaelod relayed the history and creation of the Chalice,’ he began, and paused only to confirm Lowsley’s quill was recording his words automatically. ‘Veils were viewed by the worshippers of Arawn as bridges between our world and the Otherworld, and so as places where they could congregate and better hear the word of their god. But these were static and, as best we can tell, could not be built at-will by wizards.’ 

He looked at de Sablé, who nodded. ‘When we created the Veil at Ager Sanguinis, we were using forms of ancient magic to _contain_ a breach between worlds that had already been caused. The huge magical death toll in battle caused the rift; all we sought was to contain the hole. Build a gateway. Building a Veil from scratch - I don’t know how that would be done.’ 

‘The inscriptions in the Temple,’ Matt continued, beginning to pace around the circle, ‘imply that the Chalice was made as a form of worship by the followers of Arawn. Its intent, I _believe_ , was that it be a breach between realms in itself, so those who carried it could commune with their god.’ 

‘Then why,’ said Nejem, ‘is it an item of healing?’ 

‘It’s like a Veil in that it’s a breach; that’s why it starts to warp the world around it if it’s in one place for too long. But it’sa bridge; it’s made up of powerful death magic, yes, but _also_ powerful life magic. Think of it as having a foot in both worlds. The records in Cantref Gwaelod imply its construction was the result of _centuries_ of work, of all of the worshippers of Arawn’s knowledge of Veils and the Otherworld, but also all of their connection to the old druids and their knowledge of life, healing, fertility. They weren’t madmen worshipping death; death is a _cycle_.’ Matt wagged a finger in the air. ‘Interestingly, I think the connection to the Otherworld also made the Chalice more powerful at healing. Life magic can mend the body; death magic could stop the soul from passing over, contain it _in_ the body long enough for the healing magic to do its work. No other object of healing in the _world_ can do that. The inscriptions in the Temple implied this was a form of judgement for those on the verge of death; that their god would save those he wished to, and claim those he wished to.’ 

A low noise of discontent escaped de Sablé’s throat. ‘If only I had destroyed this thing when I had the chance.’ 

‘We have the chance now,’ said Matt, and gestured at Lowsley to make sure he was paying attention. ‘Because I have a theory. I made requests of the Department of Mysteries for their studies of Veils, and _already_ we’re getting results from the examination of the Cantref Gwaelod Veil which surpasses our previous knowledge. Not to mention all of the latent magical energies in that Temple, weaves of the arcane which are _like_ the Chalice but different - purer, simpler. We have the building blocks of magic that created the Chalice, and we know more about Veils than we ever did before.’ 

‘Why do we need to know about Veils?’ said Nejem. 

‘Because they’re breaches between the worlds,’ said Matt, and turned back to the Chalice of Emrys, the silver cup gleaming in the gloom. His salvation, and the doom of the whole world, not to mention Scorpius Malfoy. ‘Just like the Chalice is. And I think now we know enough about breaches, and - from what we found in Cantref Gwaelod - enough about the Chalice, to close a breach.’ He glanced back at them. ‘The Chalice has a foot in both worlds. Close the breach within it, and you snap the Chalice in half.’

* * 

‘I don’t like this,’ said Albus as they left the temporary cell block tent. ‘An Unbreakable Vow -’ 

‘Is something he signed up for. Would you rather we trusted him?’ Eva paused a few feet out and pressed a hand to her lower back. It didn’t ache as such, but she could feel herself tiring quicker than she expected, worn out by walking not very far. Legilimency wasn’t easy, but it shouldn’t have drained her this much. 

At once he was by her side, discontent dissolved for concern. A hand hovered near her back, ready to support but not touching, not yet. ‘Are you okay? Do you need a Healer?’ 

‘I think,’ said Eva, trying to be firm, ‘I need to sit down. That’s all.’ 

‘I’ve got a tent. It’s not much, it’s -’ 

‘If it has a _stool_ it’ll do.’ 

It was difficult to follow him through the airfield while he was trying to not flap with concern at her side, but the sleeping space for IMC staff was mercifully not far and nobody stopped them. Hustle and bustle in the bright sun of the airfield centred around the hangar, where a clustering crowd suggested a new influx of refugees. 

_Not my problem. I_ _’ve done my part._   
  
Albus’ tent was more relieving for the shade than her back by the time they ducked in. What had only been about six feet long from the outside was a mighty ten feet squared on the inside, which seemed needlessly cruel an illusion. There was little more than a cot, a footlocker, a table with a water basin, but what more there was included a stool. She tried to not groan as she sat down, knowing he’d fuss. 

He fussed anyway, because soon she felt a cup of water pressed into her hand, and looked up to find him perched on the cot, hands in his lap, bright eyes on her. ‘I can bring one of the Healers in here -’ 

‘If I needed a Healer, _we_ could go to _them_. They’re dealing with people in critical condition; they don’t need to be dragged from the hangar to help someone who’s a little bit tired.’ 

‘You were _stabbed_.’ 

‘And I’ve been seen to and I’m just worn out. You know healing potions drain energy. I’ll be fine.’ She sipped the water and found it colder and more refreshing than it had a right to be, like chilled water could be in dire need. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was. ‘How _did_ you get captured, anyway?’ Changing the topic to him felt safer. 

She watched as Albus’ expression twisted into unmistakable sheepish guilt. ‘I Stunned a bunch of Thornweavers, and took their rings so they couldn’t control the Inferi. Except when I was leaving, another Inferius patrol showed up, and I had to reveal myself to destroy _them_ , or they’d just _eat_ the Thornweavers. Their handler got me in the back.’ 

Eva stared at him for a moment, but the only response she could summon then was a small, sympathetic, wry laugh. ‘Of course that’s how it happened. Of course you got captured doing something stupidly _noble_ like saving Thornweavers from their own monsters.’ 

He cringed, though not without self-awareness. ‘I couldn’t stand there and let them die. Whoever they were. I…’ His gaze dropped. ‘I was that sort of guy before. These past few years. Letting bad things happen because it was easier, even if it was happening to bad people. It’s not that simple, though, is it?’ 

‘It _can_ be that simple.’ Eva drained her water and put it down. ‘And I remember you making everything simple, once. It was just a different kind of simple. Where you were decent to everyone.’ Then her gaze, too, dropped. ‘That it almost got you killed doesn’t surprise me.’ 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘I really thought you were gone.’ She had to press her hand against her forehead, as if she could push back that wave of oblivion that had threatened to overwhelm her. ‘And for a moment, once I’d made it to the Portkey, I thought about leaving. Heading for here and then keeping on going, and nobody in the world would know if I was alive or dead and probably wouldn’t _care_. I could go somewhere else, because what the hell did anyone else in that building even _matter_ …’ 

It took a moment before Albus answered, voice low and awkward. ‘Why didn’t you?’ 

Only now did she look up, meet that piercing gaze which could always strip away her masks. ‘The last thing you asked me to do was protect those people. So I did. So I got them out of there. But I didn’t then go after Geiger because I thought you were alive. I told others, I told myself, I wanted to retrieve your body. But that wasn’t it.’ Her chest tightened. ‘I wanted to kill Geiger. And I thought that if I’d done my _duty_ , if I’d got people out, if I’d done the _right thing_ , then I could let myself be selfish. Just one last time. Because I did think it would be one last time.’ 

‘A _suicide_ run was being selfish?’ He pulled himself off the cot to kneel before her, lifted a hand to hers at her temple. His touch was as gentle as his voice. 

It took focus to not pull away. A gentle touch could be scarier than a tight hold, because a sharp grip made her defensive. This coaxed her to be open, softened her to vulnerability, and that was the unknown territory. ‘I didn’t think I had it in me to leave with them for Britain. Take Goyle and get what he knew, find Malfoy, finish the job, and - what, carry on without you and then go to prison?’ Her voice shook, and she almost choked on the threat of rising emotion. ‘I didn’t have it in me. Maybe that makes me weak -’ 

‘ _Nothing_ you did in there was weak. You saved thirty people, Eva. _I_ _’m_ the one who failed; I tried and I didn’t make it. You’re the one who stepped up and pulled it off. Every single person who got out of that situation owes you their life.’ He tilted her face up to meet his eyes, his expression creased. ‘Perhaps me most of all.’ 

‘You make it sound,’ she said, tongue tasting of ash, ‘like I had a choice.’ 

‘You could have run and left them. You could have left with them. You could have given up when they hurt you, you could have killed Geiger.’ His other hand came up, cupping her face. He looked at her like he was holding the world, and for the first time in a long, long time, she felt like there was something in her beyond the void. ‘You didn’t. Whenever you have the power to make a choice, Eva, you do the right thing.’ 

She didn’t know if he kissed her or if she kissed him, but she fell into his arms anyway. She’d been held up by strings of denial and desperation, held away by glass of guilt and duty; caged in by the things she’d been and the things she’d been told she was. But it all shattered against his lips, broke like it never had before, and a part of her braced for the inevitable. 

Except her constraints were gone, the ones she’d made and the ones she’d been given, and yet neither she nor the world fell apart. 

And the world was many things - the work waiting for them in Britain, the war waging across the world, even the looming question of her ultimate fate - but a part, a very important part, was his enfolding embrace, the sheer need she could taste in his kiss. A very important part of the world, at least for the moment, was just them, and when she fell into it without strings to hold her up, cages to pen her in, it didn’t shatter as she’d feared, as she’d expected. 

It was different to Venice. That had been all softness and vulnerability, an exploration for him and a parting gift from her to them both. That same gentleness dug deeper now, because there was no doubt she was Eva Saida, a killer and a traitor and a saviour, and acceptance was there all the same. But there was the fire from that ill-advised fumble in the safehouse, that shuddering need that had howled in them both, yet now it filled them instead of hollowing them out, because they needed the same thing and still found it in each other all the same. 

It was also a considerably smaller bed, but this wasn’t much of a problem during, and they were exhausted enough by the past forty-eight hours to collapse into entangled sleep with little reservation after. And it was, Eva thought, entirely worth it when she woke up some unknown time later, curled up against him under bedsheets that were far too hot in this climate, but finding him looking at her with a ridiculous, sleepy, delighted smile on his face. 

‘You’re still here,’ he whispered, like all Christmas mornings had come at once, and did nothing more than kiss her on the forehead and collapse back into pleased, exhausted slumber. 


	42. No Deed of Arms

When she walked in the office, Matt lunged to his feet as if stung, and for a moment it was like the old days. When they were first together and he was always pleased and nervous around her, or when they first broke up and he was awkward and guilty. Or when his feelings for her resurfaced and he was furtive and jealous. 

There were very few good memories of Matt reacting like this, so despite it all, Rose folded her arms across her chest and stayed near his office door. ‘Hey.’ 

‘Hey - you’re okay.’ His brow creased. ‘We heard about Helluby. We were worried - I mean, of course your mother sent word last night you’d turned up alright, but not finding a body in a Lethe-attacked settlement isn’t much reassurance.’ 

‘Yeah, that wasn’t the plan.’ She didn’t look at him, let her gaze drift across the pictures and maps and scribbles strewn across every surface, every wall. It looked like a lot had been cleared out from the main corkboard lately, and she padded towards it, looked at the swirling etchings of ritual markings and organisation. ‘I’m sorry we worried people. We didn’t have much choice.’ 

‘Council can do that. Did you find what you were looking for?’ 

_If what we went looking for was the destruction of hope, sure_. ‘No. No, we didn’t.’ Rose lifted a hand to one of the circular ritual markings. ‘You look like you did.’ 

When she glanced over her shoulder, his eyes were gleaming in that excitable way, even if his guilt hadn’t dissipated. ‘I think we found it, Rose. The site of the Chalice’s creation. These ruins were submerged centuries, maybe millennia ago, but I think they were _thousands_ of years old in origin; wizarding civilisations predating anything we had confirmation of before…’ 

_Just like Ultima Thule. I suppose it all comes together._ She nodded and tried to look excited. ‘That’s good work.’ 

His expression crumpled. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t find an answer.’ 

‘Castagnary’s dead.’ It wasn’t what she’d meant to say; it wasn’t even news she’d thought about breaking. But they’d spent so long worrying about the man, months consumed by the thought of escaping him, outwitting him, that now she was back by Matt’s side it came naturally. ‘He was hunting us on Baffin Island. I - I had to kill him.’ 

Matt’s face ran through a gauntlet of emotions she suspected she was going to see a lot of. Shock, horror, sympathy - and she liked none of them. ‘I - I’m sorry.’ 

‘Sorry that he’s dead, or sorry I killed him?’ But there was a hollowness to her voice she recognised, and Rose stepped back, lifting a hand to her temple. ‘Ugh, I didn’t mean that, Matt. Thank you. It _was_ horrible, but I did… what I had to do.’ With their failure at Ultima Thule, with the obvious progress made by Matt, she could feel herself back on that precipice, and there was only emptiness at the bottom. _I don_ _’t want to be that empty again._ In some ways, the easiest way to avoid that emptiness was to cling to the last shreds of dogged determination to save Scorpius. 

In others, the easiest way to avoid that emptiness was to refuse to _let_ herself become hollow. 

He walked around the desk, expression a more honest grimace. ‘How’s Scorpius?’ 

‘Unpacking.’ Rose scowled. That was another emotionless evasion. ‘I managed to make him believe I could save him, right before I destroyed a possible solution. So there’s that.’ 

Matt fiddled with a quill. ‘And you two are…’ 

She leaned back. ‘Do you really want to know?’ 

‘I’m not _gossipping_ , I’m wondering if you’re alright.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry. I’m not trying to pry. I really _was_ worried about you. _Both_ of you. No matter what happens, what _has_ happened, Rose, I want you to be happy, and I know - I know that’s not going to be easy -’ 

‘Or necessarily possible.’ Rose wrapped her arms around herself, and again tried to find a kernel of feeling as she dangled over the edge. ‘No, we’re not anything. Except doomed, I guess.’ Then she found something, and it made it much easier to meet his gaze when she asked, sounding almost normal, sounding almost teasing, ‘How’re you and Selena?’ 

Matt winced a much more natural wince. ‘Women talk. I hate it when that happens.’ 

‘She said you were being coy before I left.’ It was probably a pry too far, but she preferred pushing her luck than running back to the cold. Her half-smile was even genuine. 

‘I _really_ hate it when that happens.’ But his lips curled, quiet and pleased and shy, and that sparked feeling in her gut. The jealousy was that he _could_ be happy, that she was denied it, but it was, mercifully, overwhelmed by relief that he was alright, that Selena was alright. _Someone has to be, and I want it more for them than anyone._ ‘We’re okay. You don’t need a blow-by-blow account -’ 

‘Oh, no, I can get that from Selena.’ 

‘Then I won’t _spoil_ things for you both.’ He smiled, and that felt a lot more normal between them - more normal than it had ever been, like they really were friends sharing feelings, not Awkward Somethings. ‘I didn’t - I hope you don’t take me moving on as -’ 

‘I take you moving on as you being _happy_ , Matt,’ she said in a rush, and meant it. ‘Please. I always wanted you to be happy. I always wanted Selena to be happy. I was horrified when I learnt I’d stood in the way of that.’ He nodded, looking pleased, and she drew a deep breath. ‘Everything’s crazy now. But you’re important to me. You’ve always been. I’d like to… to keep that. I’m not saying we can jump in to being friends right now, but maybe we can try to not drift apart.’ 

He gave an awkward, but sincere bob of the head. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’ 

‘Good.’ Now the air was thick, and Rose looked back at the corkboard. ‘Maybe you could talk me through your findings.’ 

Guilt tugged at Matt’s expression, but he went to join her with a sigh. ‘I’m getting close,’ he admitted. ‘And really, you might be the best person to help. Because it’s about turning the theory into a practical ritual, and you’re honestly better at that than me.’ 

_Sure. Let_ _’s rekindle our friendship by working together to kill the love of my life. Because everything’s not too complicated already._

* * 

‘It might be too early for - ack!’ Scorpius rocked back when Albus lunged through the door to wrap him in a bear hug. ‘Beer! Not affection, beer!’ 

Albus let him go only enough for him to breathe, broad face split in half by his huge grin. ‘It’s eleven in the morning; it _is_ a little early for beer.’ He ushered him inside anyway, his parents’ house at Godric’s Hollow that same quiet, comfy tidiness Scorpius remembered. It was, after all, the first homely place he’d ever lived that felt like home. 

Scorpius put his pack of beer on the coffee table anyway. ‘I’ve been in a land of eternal night. I don’t even know what morning is any more. You know how bad it is to try to keep a normal sleep cycle when you’re travelling; this was _ridiculous_.’ 

‘I hear you were presumed dead again.’ Albus shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, I was cut off from the world, I only heard about it once it was all over.’ 

‘I was only presumed missing, which is an improvement. Or they’re assuming I will never die, just to save on paperwork.’ Scorpius turned, and couldn’t help but return the smile. ‘I hear _you_ _’re_ a bloody hero, yet again.’ 

To his surprise, Albus winced. ‘Is that what the media’s saying? _I_ _’m_ the hero?’ 

‘You _didn_ _’t_ save thirty people and capture one of the Council of Thorns’ top lieutenants?’ 

‘Actually, no. Eva did.’ 

‘Ah.’ Scorpius sat down. ‘The media might find that less palatable.’ 

‘Which is _ridiculous_ ; she was amazing and took on most of Geiger’s squad _single-handed_ …’ 

‘You’d think the press would like a good redemption story. I think they like Harry Potter’s son being a badass more.’ He looked to the kitchen door, still and silent, and then upstairs. There was no sign of Ginny, no sign of James. Hogwarts term trundled on and kept Lily away. So there was only one thing for it. He looked back at Albus. ‘If we’re not having beer, can you at least be a bit more like your Mum and compulsively make sure I’ve got a cup of tea?’ 

Scorpius waited until Albus had sufficiently flapped around as a guilty host, waited until he had a steaming mug in his hands, before he fixed his gaze on his best friend and said, ‘So you’re talking more easily about Saida.’ 

He wasn’t surprised when Albus turned bright red. ‘I don’t - we -’ 

‘Did you wine and dine her? I told you that would work.’ 

‘Actually, I got presumed dead and then she needed to save me from the clutches of evil dark wizards.’ 

Scorpius sipped his tea. ‘That’s _close_.’ 

Albus hid his embarrassment behind his own mug. ‘Yeah. Kind of. She had every opportunity in South Africa to be who I was afraid she was. She could have fled, left everyone to die and saved her own neck. It would have been so _easy_. But she didn’t.’ The corners of his lips twitched. ‘I always saw someone in her. Even back when I thought she was Lisa Delacroix. When I found out she’d been a spy, I thought that person had been a lie.’ 

‘Sounds more like,’ said Scorpius, ‘you saw who was inside all along. Even if she didn’t know it.’ He huffed gently. ‘You’re good at seeing that person in people.’ 

Albus looked at him, and his expression sank. ‘What happens now?’ 

His throat tightened. ‘I don’t know. Rose and I found an answer on Baffin Island, but that’s long lost. Matt apparently made huge progress while we were away.’ He drained the tea and reached for the pack of beer. ‘So I came here for a drink and to not think about it all, and have you heard from your Dad?’ 

‘I - yeah.’ Albus took a beer as if he didn’t know how to argue. ‘The Thornweavers are weakened and on the back foot since South Africa; they took heavier losses than they expected. But there’s still plenty of Inferi in Greece, and Lethe’s a really good way to discourage people from fighting. They have fewer witches and wizards than us, but…’ 

‘But a zombie army and evil plague at their disposal.’ 

‘It’s getting easier as the IMC exerts more power. Lillian Rourke’s been overruling heads of state in Russia and the US to _make_ them send more forces to help in Europe and Africa. All but removing Halvard from office kind of proved she’s ready to use her emergency powers, so people are cooperating. They don’t want to be next, or at least lose face going head-to-head with her.’ 

‘That’s a significant improvement on world powers bickering about jurisdiction instead of taking action.’ Scorpius scratched his nose. ‘Reports suggested my mother was in South Africa.’ 

Albus winced. ‘Yeah. I - I lost track of her in Nairobi, I’m afraid.’ 

‘Funny thing.’ He cracked open the beer and had a swig. ‘Everyone’s lost track of her since Nairobi.’ 

‘Something’s happened to her?’ 

‘Or she chose to disappear.’ Scorpius stared at his drink. ‘I have the horrible feeling that it might not have just been my father who was involved with the Council. We talked to a Thornweaver on Baffin Island; he said my _mother_ was there when I came back through the Veil. I can’t really _remember_ what happened, but that… that fits.’ 

‘A Thornweaver told you this - they might be lying -’ 

‘ _Why_? What’s the gain? This guy thought I was going to be handed over to Raskoph and killed, he wasn’t interested in manipulating me.’ 

Albus sighed and put down his drink. ‘I suppose we’ll know more when we find your father. Gregory Goyle will report back within two weeks.’ 

_If I have that long_ , Scorpius thought, just as the fireplace burst into emerald flames with a roar of magical energy. 

Once the fires of Floo subsided, Rose stood there, rolls of parchment under her arm, hair wild, eyes wide. Scorpius wondered when she’d last slept, because she’d looked in a state when emerging from the bunk tent in Helluby earlier, and he didn’t think she’d rested much at all on their sleigh ride to the ends of the earth and back. 

‘I’ve got - I don’t -’ She stared at them both, then hurled the papers to the floor and let out a long, frustrated string of swear-words, including some in languages Scorpius didn’t understand and suspected were long-dead. 

Albus sprung to his feet. ‘Rose, what’s wrong?’ 

‘Nothing. _Nothing_ is wrong. I’m a _fucking_ genius, in fact.’ Her gaze snapped up, eyes blazing as fierce as the Floo when she looked at Scorpius. ‘Matt and I just cracked a ritual to destroy the Chalice. We’re pretty sure it’s going to work.’ 

He waited for the horror to hit him. He’d been hoping, hadn’t he? Hoping since the start, deep down, that there would be another way. Hoping even more when he’d heard of the Styx under Ultima Thule, hoping even once it was collapsed. If he hadn’t hoped, he wouldn’t have kissed Rose, wouldn’t have risked breaking everything all over again if he hadn’t thought there was a _chance_. 

But no gut-punch came. No shock, no astonishment, no bitter disappointment. So all he said, expression flat, was a low, dull, ‘When do we do this?’ 

‘There’s no deadline set, no plan to -’ 

‘How _soon_ can you do this?’ 

Rose put her hands on her hips and didn’t look at him when she said, ‘Probably the day after tomorrow.’ 

Scorpius nodded, and felt the cold return to him when he said, ‘Then that’s when we do it.’ 

‘ _What?_ ’ Albus slammed his drink down. ‘Just because we _can_ do this doesn’t mean we _should_ -’ 

‘Al, you said it yourself, the IMC is struggling against the Council _only because_ of Lethe, of the Inferi! Without them, the Thornweavers are massively outnumbered and don’t have a _chance_!’ Scorpius rounded on him. ‘With Lethe destroyed and the Inferi gone, we could see Greece and South Africa freed within the _week_!’ 

‘At the cost of your life?’ 

‘How can you think - how can _anyone_ think - that my life is worth more than that? How is it anything less than massively irresponsible to keep me alive at the cost of victory?’ 

‘How is it anything less than _monstrous_ to sacrifice you?’ 

‘I’m _choosing_ this!’ He all but stamped his foot. 

‘No. No, you’re not.’ Albus stabbed a finger at them both. ‘This isn’t a real choice. This is someone holding a wand to your throat and saying “choose”, only it’s not your throat, it’s the _world_ _’s_ throat. Nobody _has_ to die to save the world.’ 

Scorpius forced himself to let out a slow, calming breath. ‘What would _you_ do, mate, in my shoes?’ 

‘That’s not the point.’ 

‘It really _is_.’ 

Albus scowled, then rounded on Rose. ‘What about this answer you found on Baffin Island?’ 

Her breath caught. ‘It’ll take forever to dig through the rubble of Ultima Thule. We don’t have the _time_.’ 

‘I cannot believe,’ Albus snapped, ‘that you’re going along with this. That you _helped_ with this.’ 

‘That I _helped_?’ She took a step back. ‘I’ve done what I had to do. We’ve _all_ done what we had to do. And I’m actually _listening_ to him, unlike you!’ 

‘I’m not listening because this is _insane_ ; we were going to find _another way_!’ 

‘And we’re out of time! You can’t run away from this one, Al -’ 

‘ _Enough_!’ Scorpius snapped his hands up as the two cousins squared off against one another, family tempers on a collision course he wasn’t sure the Potter home could survive. ‘We tried to cheat death! It didn’t work! So we - _all_ of us - are going to have to do what we’ve done since the start: step up even when we didn’t want to.’ That startled them out of their blossoming anger. ‘I remember what I told Professor Lockett before we went to shut down Phlegethon: that we didn’t have a choice, but we were choosing this.’ 

Albus’ shoulders slumped. ‘That was different.’ 

‘Not much. We could have hidden. We could have let others take the risk. We could have delayed and looked for another way. And you know what - if we’d done that, Methuselah probably wouldn’t have died. But who knows who would have, or how many? And he knew that when we first set off, he knew that when he marched into that ritual and died to save everyone. He didn’t have to. He could have let me.’ 

_I_ _’m the best at this._   
  
‘It was a _choice_ ,’ he pressed on, before the ghosts smothered him. ‘Just like this is. And I _am_ choosing, I’m not just accepting the situation, I’m not…’ Scorpius looked between them wildly. ‘I’m not being the dead man walking. The dead man walking didn’t come over for beers with his best mate; the dead man walking didn’t kiss you because he had hope. I tried to be him, and you didn’t let me, neither of you. And that makes this harder, but I’m not sorry you did that. Because it means I know what this choice means. I know what I’m giving up. And this is my _choice_.’ 

They were swimming before his vision now, so he blinked hard and drew a ragged breath through a throat tightening with the threat of a sob. ‘And you two can’t be at each other’s throats right now because I _bloody need you_ -’ 

It was Albus who reached him first, but he didn’t know if he’d led or physically dragged Rose over to him, and it was his arms wrapping around them both as they clutched at each other, all three of them. 

And finally he broke and sobbed, because with all he’d sacrifice with his life, they were what he’d forever needed the most.

* * 

It was late by the time Matt let himself into his flat, so weary and distracted that he almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of the crackling fire and the silhouetted figure sat before it. ‘Merlin!’ 

‘It’s just me!’ Selena got to her feet, expression wry. ‘Sorry. This was meant to be a nice surprise. Not a heart attack.’ 

‘No, no, it’s just been a long day.’ He tossed his bag to one side and scrubbed his face with his real hand. ‘I forgot I gave you a key.’ 

‘You did. And there’s drink. And food. Don’t worry. I didn’t cook it.’ She gestured to the coffee table. ‘Muggle developments are amazing. They mean I can go into a shop and have a hot pizza _waiting_ forme. Also, they mean I don’t have to cook.’ 

‘Your cooking isn’t that bad.’ By the time he got to the couch, all remaining energy had drained from him, and he collapsed next to her with a grunt. ‘But this looks great. Thanks.’ 

She opened the pizza box and put it between them. ‘How’s work?’ 

‘I’m sorry I told you about the ritual by note.’ He caught her wrist as she reached for a slice, met her gaze. ‘I thought you should know, but there’s still been work to do, enacting the principles… just because we have an answer doesn’t mean there’s not more to do.’ 

Selena met his gaze. ‘It’s fine. This wasn’t a surprise. I knew you’d get something once we found Cantref Gwaelod. This is a little sooner, but I was counting in days.’ 

‘It’s just a matter of work by now. Process. I’d be surprised if we don’t have it done by close of business tomorrow. It’ll be best done in de Sablé’s tomb in the Parisian catacombs, the place was _built_ to hold the Chalice and is still infused with its energies from decades of it being stored there. And there are no unstable side-effects like a Veil or Dementors. So we’ve got a Portkey to bring us there the morning after tomorrow.’ He let go of her hand and reached for pizza. 

‘How’s Rose?’ 

Matt blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘I don’t even know. She went to tell Scorpius and she was gone a couple of hours, but then she came right back. Got to work on the ritual. Even asked for de Sablé’s help. She was still there when I left, and so was he. I have no idea what she’s trying to achieve.’ 

‘Find a loophole,’ Selena theorised. ‘Or a flaw so it can’t be done. Or, perhaps, she’s accepting it’s inevitable and so is being a Rose-flavoured control freak about it. Either in some, “if it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen right,” or in some self-flagellating, “if I’m endorsing my boyfriend’s death, then I should be the one who does it,” way. Nothing _good_.’ 

‘You really do know her better than me,’ he sighed. ‘We talked. A bit. It was awkward. I suppose that’s the least of anyone’s concerns right now, though.’ 

‘At least you can work together. There’ll be time for anything else.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Matt. ‘Right after I kill Scorpius.’ 

She grimaced. ‘Matt, you’re -’ 

‘Hey, I know. Lethe needs destroying. It might even wipe out the Council’s current Inferi forces. And I can do it by the end of the week. That’s _immense_. And it’s come off the back of mastering the magics of an ancient artifact _I_ spearheaded the discovery of, that was once thought to be a myth. Then going through old records and digging up a lost city of magic thousands of years old, a place nobody was sure existed. It’s the magical find of the century on top of the magical find of the century _and_ it includes saving the world.’ He slumped back on the sofa. ‘I just have to kill Scorpius Malfoy.’ 

‘He always knew it would come to this.’ 

‘That doesn’t make it right.’ Matt scowled at the fire. ‘I was never _the_ smartest. My magical theory isn’t as good as Rose’s, my practical isn’t as good as Albus’ and, well, you’ve heard Rose lament the hardships of being second place to Methuselah Jones.’ He paused. ‘Which is a _super_ inappropriate thing for me to talk about.’ 

Selena leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s fine. I understand you nerds think this shit is important.’ 

The corner of his lip curled at the gentle tease. ‘I thought finding the Chalice, finding a way to destroy it, would be this crowning achievement for my _life_. Chocolate Frog Cards, here I come.’ He closed his eyes. ‘And now I wish… I don’t know. I wish I’d never found the lead to Ager Sanguinis. I wish I’d never deciphered de Sablé’s writings to take us to Tomar. I’d _wish_ I never figured out enough of the letters from the Caribbean that you guys could finish the job, but then I’d be dead.’ 

Her hand came up to brush his hair from his forehead, a gentle, soothing touch. ‘This sucks. But you can’t hold yourself responsible.’ 

‘Maybe not, but then how would you cope if I didn’t come home, morose and self-doubting so you could be the cheerleader to smart guys?’ He met her gaze, kept his smile. 

‘I do need my daily dose of man-pain, and you usually deliver.’ But she put the pizza box on the table and slipped onto his lap. When she wrapped her arms around him, at last he could surrender to his guilt and collapse against her, bury his face in her shoulder. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Matt mumbled, voice muffled. ‘I know he’s your friend, too.’ 

‘Yeah,’ sighed Selena. ‘Basically no way this doesn’t suck for everyone. In my experience, that’s how doing the right thing works.’

* * 

‘You should, perhaps, rest,’ said Reynald de Sablé, looking across the cellar under the warehouse at Rose. She was splayed on her front, cushions brought down in deference to the cold and winter, but still surrounded by notes and scribbles and books. Before her, surrounded by etchings and ritual markings carved and chalked into the stone floor, the Chalice of Emrys gleamed by candlelight. 

‘You know when I’ll rest? In two nights. Because then it won’t matter.’ She didn’t look up. 

‘In which case you should make the most of the time you have.’ De Sablé padded over and sat next to her, stiffly crossing his legs. ‘You should be with him.’ 

‘He’s with Albus. _I_ have to use the time I have to make this _right_.’ 

‘You will not find a fault in the theory. We know too much of the Chalice now, of breaches and the Otherworld. The principle is sound. It will work.’ 

‘I know it’ll work.’ Rose kept on scribbling. ‘That’s what I mean by “right”. I have to make sure it _works_ right. For instance, there’s a serious threat that trying to close the breach will cause a magical backlash that’ll kill everyone in a twenty metre radius, and we need at least _two_ ritualists in the first place. Not to mention there might be people _above_ us.’ 

‘Matthias and his men can tomorrow -’ 

‘I’m a better ritualist than them. The catacombs provide a strong element of death; we need something to balance it out, to meet that backlash if it happens…’ 

She felt his gaze fall on her, trying to bore through her shield of determined writing, the physical veil of her hair flopping down over her face. ‘You need not _punish_ yourself.’ 

‘Who said anything about me punishing myself?’ 

‘You accept this as inevitable, and you feel responsible because you could not find another way. You feel that if you are not his saviour, you are his executioner. And so you must be his executioner in every way.’ 

Rose bit her lip and paused. ‘That’s not it.’ 

‘It is not?’ 

She brushed her hair behind her ear, and considered, when all of this was done, shaving her head. Then she wouldn’t have to think of him every time that damn springy lock defied her. ‘This is his choice. He’s embracing his sacrifice, he knows what he has to do. So I’m trying to - to respect that. Help it happen, and help it happen smoothly. Even if that makes this the last thing we do together.’ Her nose wrinkled, and she sat up. ‘That’s pathetic, isn’t it.’ 

‘It is honourable. You set aside your wishes to aid and support his. This way, when he faces his end, it won’t be as it was in Ager Sanguinis, as a victim of circumstance. He stands firm before his judgement and you are beside him. There is no shame in that.’ 

‘I feel like…’ She couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘I feel I’m letting him down. Like I should be trying to find another way. I don’t _know_ another way, and I don’t have the time, and I could probably cripple this entire endeavour and give us _more_ time but - but he doesn’t want that. But how _could_ he want that? People are dying to Inferi and Lethe across the world; he’d be asking them to keep dying so he can have only a _chance_ …’ 

‘You act as if right and wrong are in our hands here.’ De Sablé shook his head. ‘The misdeeds began long ago, undertaken by different men. We merely reap the fruits of their labour, even if that fruit is death. All we can do is live with the consequences. The moral choice is beyond us.’ 

‘We have to do the thing we can live with,’ Rose echoed, drawing her legs up under herself. 

‘It is, perhaps, easy for me to say this. With the Chalice gone, my duty will be over. Because of the Chalice I had centuries to live; because of the Chalice, I did nothing with that time, saw little of the world and made little mark in it. It has been pleasant to see more these past two years. To see how wizardkind and the Laymen have changed.’ Reynald de Sablé smiled, actually smiled, and then he didn’t look like a dour, ancient relic of times gone by, but a man not that old after all. ‘I have spent too much time out of this world. When this is over, I would like to live in it a little.’ 

She dropped her gaze. ‘You’d deserve it.’ 

‘Perhaps. So would Scorpius Malfoy. I fear we will, none of us, get what we deserve in this life. But there is respite and joy after, especially for those who strive to better the world, and make the hard sacrifices. Know that he will be going beyond all hardship, beyond all loss.’ 

Rose heard de Sablé cut himself off before he invoked his religion, and felt a pang of guilt. It obviously gave him comfort, and obviously equipped him to _give_ these answers. She drew a slow breath. ‘I thought I’d got him back.’ 

‘You did. You have had him back for all these weeks, and _that_ is a gift. This life is fleeting, and we must cling to joy where we can.’ He sighed. ‘I cannot help but feel guilty. He and I were, both of us, touched by the Chalice. Only it granted me life, when it has granted him only death. We should remember this when he is gone. You have told me you were empty before, with him gone. You would do best to honour his sacrifice not just by making the most of the time with him now, but by living your life to the utmost when he is _gone_.’ 

Her quill paused a half-inch above the parchment, dripping ink, as her breath caught in her throat. ‘You’re right,’ she said at last, trying to push back the blood pounding in her ears. ‘You were both touched by the Chalice.’ 

‘I - that was not the point -’ 

‘No, I heard the rest, and you’re right. Make the most of time. Live to the utmost when he’s gone.’ Her head snapped up, and she forced herself to look him in the eye. ‘I just know how to make that ritual go off safely - for everyone else. I need you to take part in it.’ 

De Sablé winced. ‘If I agree, will you heed the rest of my words? The ones of life, not only work?’ 

_Oh, I_ _’m heeding them._ Rose bent over the paper. _Because I want to live when this is over._


	43. I Love Thee to the Death

_So, this is it._ Scorpius sat on a wet bench on a rain-slicked stretch of Diagon Alley and stared at the door across the road. _My last afternoon in this world is filled with perfect English weather._

November would die not long after him, which meant the world was turning cold, damp, and miserable, without any of the excitement for Christmas yet. The thought of Christmas made him think of his last Christmas, several years ago for the rest of the world. A feast in the Great Hall, wizarding Britain rallying to thank them, most of all _him_ for how his radio show had given parents comfort. His father’s letter condemning him. The knitted jumper, which he wore even now under his raincoat. It was more threadbare than he remembered, and smelled of Rose. He wondered how much she’d clung to it over the years. Then he wondered how much she’d cling to it again. 

Closing his eyes against the wave of guilt and pain meant he almost missed the figure emerging from the door across the street and hurrying off out of the rain. The flash of blue hair was impossible to mistake, though, and Scorpius shot to his feet. ‘Teddy - uh - Mister Lupin -’ _What do I even call you?_   
  
Teddy Lupin stopped, collar of his coat turned up against the weather. With his height and brown coat and the brightness of his hair, he looked like a walking pencil with a blue rubber. A very surprised one. ‘Uh. Scorpius Malfoy. What can I do for you?’ 

‘I was waiting - could we talk? I’ll buy you a coffee.’ 

Nothing between the Lupins and the Malfoys had been so inhospitable in their lifetimes that Teddy would turn down a cuppa, especially if it got him out of the rain, and soon Scorpius was sat in the same teashop where he’d accosted Selena, Miranda and Abena long years ago. He’d been asking Selena to join them on holiday. That felt like weeks ago, still. 

‘I know you’re probably busy. Wedding looming, and all.’ Scorpius stirred his tea and wiped rain from his brow. ‘I wouldn’t stop by if this weren’t important.’ 

‘Yeah, the wedding’s Saturday. This is my last day in the office until after the honeymoon.’ Teddy shifted his weight. ‘It’s a kind of small, family affair, I’m sorry…’ 

Scorpius squinted - then laughed. ‘Oh, no. Don’t worry. I’m not here to complain because I’m not invited.’ He knew it _wasn_ _’t_ a small, family affair, but didn’t begrudge the gentle fib. ‘Though, “family”. That _is_ why I’m here.’ Teddy looked guarded, so he pressed on. ‘Our grandmothers were sisters. And a lot closer after the war, before my grandmother died, or so I could tell.’ 

Teddy sipped his coffee. ‘They reconciled in their later years, yes,’ he said cautiously. 

‘I guess, if we’d been closer in age, we might have spent more time together. Cousins.’ 

‘Maybe.’ 

But Teddy was confused and Scorpius knew polite indulgence would only get him so far, so he drew a slow breath. ‘My father has gone off and become, yet again, a traitor to decency. God knows what my mother’s up to. When I got a lot of my money and belongings backafter being proved alive again, I also claimed a lot of the family assets. And there’s a war on, and the world is dangerous, and you…’ He tore his gaze off his cup, met Teddy’s awkward gaze. ‘You’re the only family I’ve got that’s not my rotten parents.’ 

Teddy winced, and it was a sign he was from the _good_ side of the family that his sympathy seemed genuine. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Scorpius waved a hand. ‘I guess that’s not really the point. But I have to have my affairs in order, and…’ He sighed. ‘I have plans for Malfoy Manor’s fate. But that doesn’t set aside the rest of the assets. My last will, I left everything to Al, as my best mate. But Al doesn’t need me looking after him. _You_ _’re_ family. The good family. “Malfoy” might be a name to spit on, but our grandmothers were Blacks. I’ve got Sirius Black’s watch in my pocket, your grandmother’s lived her life doing the right thing. So.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Some of my money’s got to go specific places - you’ll see when the will’s read out. But the rest of it? The bulk? I thought you should know I’m leaving it to you.’ 

Teddy rocked back. ‘To _me_.’ 

‘You’re… family. I wish we’d known each other, but I guess the world didn’t move along that far, did it? But you’re getting married, maybe you’ll have a family, and apparently not having to worry about money makes life a lot happier.’ Scorpius gave a wry, self-effacing smile. ‘I can’t fix a rift between us - or, rather, build a bridge that never got built. But I can try to do something for the family that actually shares my beliefs.’ 

‘What beliefs?’ Teddy’s lips curled. ‘Chasing a Weasley girl?’ 

Scorpius laughed. ‘That kind of like-minded pig-headedness, yes.’ 

Teddy shook his head. ‘Why does this need to be a _will_ , Scorpius? We could just do _this_. Have a pint together some time. You should go see my Gran - seriously, she’d be _thrilled_ to see you. When Narcissa died, she thought that was everyone but me. Your dad didn’t care. But her sister’s grandson? She’d love that.’ 

Scorpius’ gaze dropped again. ‘Would that I had the time.’ 

‘Look.’ Teddy sighed. ‘Come to the wedding on Saturday -’ 

‘I _really_ don’t think Victoire would like that, she does _not_ like me -’ 

‘She doesn’t _know_ you. Besides, I bet there’ll be lots of people who’ll miss the wedding, like Harry and Ron; there’ll be space and food. We already pushed it back once, though, and I - I just want to get married before something else goes wrong.’ 

Scorpius stared at his coffee. _Maybe_ , he thought, _if Lethe is gone this time tomorrow, Harry can get home from Macedonia. If only long enough for his Godson_ _’s wedding. That can be my wedding present._ He cleared his throat. ‘Maybe I’ll try.’ 

‘To be fair, I think we gave Rose a plus one anyway…’ 

Scorpius slammed his coffee back. ‘We’ll see. But, uh, thanks, Teddy. I have to go, I’m sorry.’ He stood so quickly his chair squeaked on the floor. ‘Look, if I don’t see you - I wish you all the happiness in the world. You and Victoire.’ 

They shook hands, Teddy too bemused to do anything else, and then Scorpius fled, back into the rain-soaked streets of Diagon Alley, which didn’t seem so bad after all. 

Godric’s Hollow was less damp when he Apparated to the bottom of the Potters’ back garden. It looked like the rain had passed over and was carrying on east, so he crossed the lawn with the crisp smell of dying autumn around him, and let himself into the house through the kitchen door. 

_You_ _’ve not done this since you snuck out to see Rose, right before we went away -_   
  
Ginny was already there, and he remembered wondering if she lived in the kitchen, sometimes. But it was her sanctum and her office, the kitchen table strewn with newspapers and parchment and quills, and as if anticipating this need was her other magic power, she was putting the kettle on when he shut the door behind him. ‘Tea won’t be long, dear.’ 

‘Is she here yet?’ He pulled his coat off and went to sling it on the back of the chair, then grinned and shied away when she gave him a warning glance. 

‘Not yet. Al’s in the front room, though.’ 

He could have done the meeting privately. It was a selfish need for backup that brought him here, but there were other issues to face, too. He looked at Albus’ mother, watched her as she bustled around the kitchen, and drew a slow, raking breath. ‘I should… I should be thanking you.’ 

Ginny stopped with her hand on the tin of tea. When she turned, her face was slumped, defeated. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘You and Harry took me into your home when you didn’t have to. I wish Harry were here so I could thank him, too, but he’s not, so you’re just going to have to take all of it.’ Scorpius’ lips twisted as badly as his gut. ‘The months I spent here after Phlegethon were some of the best of my life. I really mean that. I was -’ 

His throat closed up, then Ginny was crossing the distance and pulled him into a warm hug. ‘You have _always_ had a place here,’ she whispered, and he had to fight to not collapse into the embrace. ‘You’ve been so _good_ to Albus. I don’t care what your rat of a father thinks; so far as I’m concerned, you’re family.’ She was a blurry mess before him when he pulled back, and she reached up and straightened his jumper. ‘That’s been the case since Mum knitted you this. Maybe longer.’ 

‘You’ll take care of Al, won’t you?’ Scorpius croaked, and even though it was a stupid question to ask Albus’ own mother, he couldn’t explain more, because he was too busy giving big gulps to swallow the rising emotion. 

‘We’ll keep him out of trouble. And closer to home this time.’ Ginny smiled, her teeth shining through his tears. ‘I just wish you’d helped him get a slightly _less_ troublesome girlfriend -’ 

His laugh almost drowned him. ‘Eva’s cool. She really is, if you just give her a chance, and she’s _mad_ about him… I mean, I don’t know how _she_ _’d_ cope with a jumper…’ 

‘Worse than most. That’s the fun of it.’ The smile turned mischievous before it saddened. ‘Of course, she might end up in jail, which puts a damper on the relationship - but that’s not a problem for now, Scorpius, you just - you settle yourself down and I’ll bring the tea, yes?’ 

_Not a problem for now. Because I_ _’ll be dead before anyone can worry about Albus’ long-term prospects._   
  
He did as he was told, though, walked into the living room and found Albus sat there with a book he was clearly not reading. They exchanged wan glances, but before either spoke there was a knock at the door. Scorpius winced. ‘That’ll be her.’ 

Al shot to his feet. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’ 

It was the best of both worlds, Scorpius reasoned. He could have the conversation quietly, but then he’d have a cup of tea and a very necessary hug waiting for him when he was done. But in the meantime he had to tackle his composure, go to the front door, and open it to greet the nervous shape of Nathalie Lockett. 

‘You’re living here again?’ Nat asked as she slouched into the living room. She looked like she’d been pulling long nights, dressed the same as she had during the endless months at Hogwarts. 

‘No, just stopping by here before - before tonight. Kettle’s on.’ He stayed standing as she sat, shoved his hands in his pockets and felt a stupid schoolboy again. 

So it was no surprise her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘What’s going on?’ 

‘I didn’t - I need to talk to you before -’ 

‘ _No_.’ She launched to her feet. ‘Doyle _hasn_ _’t_ -’ 

‘He has, he’s found a way to destroy the Chalice.’ Scorpius blinked. ‘And… you know what this means?’ 

Nat paused, then shook her head as if to clear it. ‘I had theories but you’re looking like you’re about to drop a _bombshell_ \- I _told_ him he had to find another way -’ 

‘There _is_ no other way,’ he said, but he felt exhausted rather than angry. This was a conversation he was doomed, he thought, to have over and over. ‘This will stop Lethe, it might even destroy all the Inferi out there, and that wins the war. That stops people from dying.’ 

‘Except for _you_!’ 

‘I’m not here to debate this!’ Scorpius snapped. ‘I almost didn’t _tell_ you because I _knew_ you’d argue, Nat, I just need you to - to _listen_!’ 

She rocked back, eyes widening. Then she slumped, and when she spoke her voice was low, awkward. ‘…that might be the first time you’ve not called me “Professor” without prompting.’ 

He let out a long, raking sigh. ‘There are a lot of people I’m not telling, not warning, because - because it’s just going to be messy, and a lot of them won’t _benefit_ from warning. And some of them I can’t find. Dad’s still God-knows where. Even my _Mum_ has scarpered since South Africa, and while I was away I learnt that maybe _she_ _’s_ been in with the Council, too, that maybe she helped bring me back.’ 

Nat narrowed her eyes again. ‘Your mother was in with them?’ 

‘I don’t…’ Scorpius pressed a hand to his temple. ‘I didn’t mean to get into this. A Thornweaver implied she was there when I came back through the Veil. And I don’t _remember_ much of what happened then, but what I do remember sort of matches. I remember tumbling back through the Veil, and I remember someone being there, holding me, and I remember feeling safe and _alive_ because of her…’ 

She turned to the window at once and didn’t answer for a while. When she did speak, her voice was low, throaty. ‘I spent some time with her in South Africa. And Geiger wanted her out of there specifically. Maybe she was affiliated, maybe he wanted to make sure she got out safely.’ 

‘I didn’t bring you here to talk about my mother,’ said Scorpius. It was easier to be honest when he was addressing only her back. ‘I brought you here because - because there are only so many people I _must_ say goodbye to, and you have to know you - you’re one of them.’ 

He heard her breath catch, and she only half-turned to him. ‘There’s got to be another way.’ 

‘There isn’t,’ he said, padding over. ‘I bet you Rose would have found it by now. So all I can do is accept the reality. Step up. I don’t like it, but I’m trying to make peace with it, and I need _you_ to - I need you to make peace with it. And be okay. I need the people I love to be okay.’ 

Nat Lockett’s laugh was short and bitter, but she did look up at him, eyes shining. ‘Yet again, I’m failing to be the responsible adult for you.’ 

‘There are a _lot_ of people I owe for helping me become a better person.’ Scorpius tentatively put a hand to her arm. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you are the first adult who acted like I _could_ step up, who let me know it was _okay_ to feel what I felt. Everyone else ignored what I could become, or treated me like I was _just_ a brat, or - or never really gave me the time of day. You validated me without taking my shit. You pushed me to become better without making me feel inadequate. You accepted me as a fuck up, said it was _okay_ to be a fuck up, and helped me move on and grow up all the same.’ 

‘And what do you know,’ said Nat in a low voice. ‘You did the same for me.’ She hugged him, and this embrace he didn’t fight as he’d fought Ginny’s. He buried his face in her shoulder, let her stroke his hair, cradle him in a way he couldn’t really remember even his mother doing. ‘I wanted everything to be different,’ she croaked. ‘I wanted everything to be better, and I couldn’t make it better. I wanted _so much better_ for you, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry -’ 

‘This isn’t your fault,’ he interrupted. ‘You helped me, you’ve helped _so many_ people, you’ve saved lives -’ 

‘I -’ But it sounded like her throat closed up, and she pulled back, cheeks wet with tears. ‘Scorpius, you don’t know -’ 

He kept a hold of her arm, met her gaze firmly. ‘Go home, Nat. Go see your husband. Don’t, _don_ _’t_ run away again, pull away again, _please_. You’ve got a life. Live it. _Please_.’ 

That brought another hug, this one fiercer and closer, but it didn’t last, couldn’t last. By the time Scorpius’ head stopped spinning she’d pulled back, muttered sobbing goodbyes, and all but fled from the house, barely remembering to shut the door behind her. 

Scorpius would have collapsed there and then if it hadn’t been for strong hands on his shoulders, and he looked up to see Albus, ashen-faced, grim-gazed. ‘You’re alright, mate,’ he muttered, support not wavering. ‘You’re okay.’ 

‘This is meant to be about making sure all of _you_ are okay,’ Scorpius croaked, but pulled away from Albus because if he surrendered again to the choking inside of him, he knew he’d drown and drown until he died. ‘I should have made a bucket list. It wouldn’t have included, “make everyone miserable.” It would have been way cooler. I just can’t think of how right now.’ 

‘Start with a cup of tea,’ said Al. ‘And then I’ll show you why I asked you to come round.’ 

Even in the face of his impending death, a cup of tea _was_ pretty calming, and by the time he’d finished, he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse or burst into tears. These seemed legitimate reactions to his situation, but they weren’t, Scorpius felt, making the most of his time. 

Albus cleared their mugs once they were done, but he returned from the kitchen in his beaten leather jacket, a bag slung over his shoulder, and offered Scorpius back his coat. ‘Come on. We’re Floo-ing off.’ 

Scorpius stood, numb. ‘Where?’ 

‘You’ll see. I got it all arranged.’ 

The fireplace exploded into green flames when they stepped into it, and he couldn’t make out what Albus said as he tossed the powder, but then they were twisted and dragged through the network, across who-knew how far in the beat of a heart, the blink of an eye. 

Then they stumbled back into being in a place that was familiar in such a bittersweet way that Scorpius had to laugh. ‘ _Here_?’ 

The Hogwarts staff room was empty at this time of day, because afternoon classes hadn’t finished. But he remembered it well, for this had become their command centre during the Phlegethon crisis, the one place where they could sit comfortably and yet didn’t feel _wrong_ , violated, because they had nothing to compare it against. And he remembered the last time he’d been here, the night before the final ritual, sat up until the small hours of the morning with Albus and with Rose and a crate of Butterbeer. It was the first time they’d sat together, the three of them, genuinely united and genuinely happy. 

The next day, Methuselah Jones had died and everything changed. 

‘I thought,’ said Albus, putting an arm over his shoulder as he led him to the door, ‘that we’d come home. Professor Stubbs had no objection once I explained.’ 

Numb, Scorpius could only let himself be steered. ‘Where’re we going?’ 

‘If you _want_ ,’ said Al, ‘we could hit the Great Hall, or the Common Room. Though they’ll be pretty crowded. So if you didn’t want to be around anyone, I had another idea.’ 

The thought of the Slytherin Common Room, where the two of them had spent so many long years, did bring a pang to Scorpius’ gut. And then he thought about being surrounded by a hundred kids he didn’t know, and the pang faded. ‘Let’s go with no crowds,’ he decided. ‘Lead on.’ 

Even in the midst of classes, the corridors felt busier than during Phlegethon. Albus led him down the routes they knew so well, their footsteps echoing off the walls as if retelling tales their glory days. Scorpius caught glimpses through doorways of classes in full swing, of - even in these winter months in the midst of war - the school alive, bustling, _real_. 

It was a mixed blessing when Albus led them out the front doors and into the grounds, and Scorpius’ chest tightened when realised where they were heading. He hadn’t come to the Quidditch pitch since they’d captured Downing, and he could still recognise the spot where Rose had fallen, blood on the snow. He hadn’t sat in the pews since Tim had died, and Rose had found him up there, frozen in every possible way. 

But this had been his bolt-hole for a reason. 

Whatever rain afflicted the south had missed Scotland, and they sat in the empty Quidditch stands under the last rays of the last sunset Scorpius knew he would ever see. Albus had stowed Butterbeer in his backpack, which they drank under the few clouds in the sky, streaked burnt orange and shining gold, and they remained silent as they watched the colours and light fade and die. 

‘You’re right,’ Scorpius croaked. They’d been silent up there for maybe half an hour before he found words that wouldn’t choke him. ‘This _is_ home. Really home. With you.’ 

Albus nodded, shoulders slumped. ‘I thought you’d like to see it. I thought this was where _we_ should be.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius closed his eyes, and kicked the rising, crippling wave inside him back down. ‘I’ve learnt some things. Realised some stuff.’ He took a swig of Butterbeer. ‘We’re made by the people around us. _You_ helped make me, Al. You made me someone who could be happy, could be confident, could be comfortable. With you, I’ve never felt scared. I’ve never felt inadequate. Any of the things my Dad made me feel about myself, _you_ got rid of. I wouldn’t be half so decent a person as I try to be, if it weren’t for you.’ 

‘You know I’d say the same about you,’ said Albus gruffly. 

‘Maybe you would.’ Scorpius nodded, then turned to meet his gaze. ‘The other stuff I realised is that we might be _made_ by the people around us. But when those people are gone, that doesn’t _unmake_ us.’ 

‘You don’t -’ Albus’ expression crumpled. ‘Mate, I didn’t bring you up here so you could give me a pep-talk, I don’t need -’ 

‘ _I_ need you to know this.’ Scorpius grabbed a fistful of his jacket. ‘I can talk all I like about how I’m dying for the world, for people I’ve never met, and that’s bloody true and it’s bloody right and it’s happening. But I can’t have the people I love break again. I just can’t. You _have_ to know that you can do okay without me. You have to _be_ okay without me.’ 

Al’s gaze dropped. ‘I don’t know about _okay_.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘I know what you mean. I’ve spent the past weeks, months, doing a lot of thinking about who I was without you. And I didn’t much _like_ that person. I don’t think you’d much like him, either. He was surly and he was selfish and he was violent. And I’d give anything to work on going back to being _me_ , a me I _like_ , with you by my side.’ He sighed. ‘But the least I can do is, even without you, still be your best mate. Not some surly arsehole.’ 

Scorpius let go of his jacket to punch him on the shoulder. ‘You could be surly sometimes.’ 

‘I wasn’t _surly_ , but someone had to take things seriously sometimes -’ 

‘It’s overrated, taking things seriously. You would have much better enjoyed that time I broke the girls’ showers in Ravenclaw’s Quidditch changing room if you’d unclenched and watched the show.’ 

Albus laughed, corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘They were _so angry_.’ 

‘I don’t think they were the angriest! Did you see what _Kirke_ did?’ 

‘She wrote those pamphlets!’ He laughed harder, doubling over. ‘Informing the school how you were a _menace to society_!’ 

‘I swear the Ravenclaws found it funnier than she did.’ Scorpius grinned, remorseless. ‘You were pretty pissed at me.’ 

‘I wasn’t.’ Al wiped his eyes. ‘I just got it in the neck from Rose, because _she_ got it in the neck from Hestia.’ 

‘And the great cycle continued.’ He drained his Butterbeer and reached for another. ‘You’ll look after her, too?’ 

Albus looked down at his hands, but took the Butterbeer when Scorpius passed it over. ‘As best I can. I’m more worried about her than me.’ He looked up, expression crumpled all over again. ‘A part of me is going to be gone forever with you. Nothing can change that. I know I’ll never quite laugh the same, I know I’ll never quite love Quidditch the same. I know every major moment in my life is going to be _less_ , because I won’t be able to share it with you.’ A tear spilt from his cheek, but he didn’t bother fighting it, and when he swallowed hard it seemed more like he wanted to be able to _talk_ , rather than wanted to avoid feeling. ‘But she was meant to have those major moments _with_ you, wasn’t she.’ 

Scorpius’ gaze dropped. ‘So were we. But I saw what she’d been like while I was gone. I saw how she changed when she started to fight back; she was _Rose_ again, fiery and - and she’s still fiery, I know she’s right now in that bloody warehouse trying to find some final cheat or final answer, and that - and that’s what I love about her.’ His lips thinned. ‘If you have to stay my best mate, I’d like her to stay the woman I love.’ 

Albus grasped his shoulder. ‘I’ll do my best. I _swear_ , Scorp, I won’t let you down this time. Whatever it takes, I will - I’ll try to live for you. And help them for you.’ 

‘You’re the best mate a guy could have.’ Scorpius reached up to clasp his hand. ‘Sounds stupid and trite. I mean - ugh. You know what I mean.’ 

Albus’ lips twisted, wry but genuine. ‘You’re my best friend, you’re my brother, and I love you.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Scorpius grunted, not without a smile. ‘That.’ It wasn’t emotional inaccessibility that had him failing to say the words, but he honestly didn’t think he’d be able to finish the night if he opened up that much. So they grinned together and he pressed on. ‘Still, I was going to have competition for your affection, wasn’t I?’ 

Al looked briefly guilty before he recognised the tease. ‘You know it’s not like that.’ 

‘No, she means _more_ to you, our little terrorist. How’re things with you?’ 

‘We haven’t spoken properly since getting back to Britain. Things have been - you know. About you.’ 

‘You should go see her. When we’re done here. You shouldn’t be alone.’ 

Albus scratched his cheek. ‘I guess I should. I don’t really know where we stand.’ 

‘Maybe you should figure that out,’ said Scorpius gently. ‘And maybe you should forget what you’re afraid of and do what makes you happy.’ 

‘Happy. She’s due a prison sentence -’ 

‘And I know, if this works, the war could be over this week. She could be locked up by tomorrow night. So you go and you make the most of the time you have.’ 

Albus sighed and leaned back. ‘I spent so long trying to figure out what I felt about her, _really_ felt about her, and then wrangling with the personal morality of that… I mean, reality kind of took a back seat. It probably shouldn’t. Deciding she’s the one for me is a bit of a dumb move if she’s going to then be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of her life.’ 

‘I don’t know. I tried to spend the last few weeks bowing to the _reality_ of my situation.’ Scorpius made a face and had a swig of Butterbeer. Night had fallen completely by now, but the cold chill of winter was irrelevant up here, out in the dark on the Quidditch pitch with his best friend. ‘It didn’t help anyone.’ 

Al hesitated - then blurted, ‘And can you really see her and me making a life together?’ The words came in a tumble, sounding like they were made of half-baked emotions and thoughts, and Scorpius’ heart creaked. Albus wasn’t really ready to ask this, really ready to _think_ about this, but he’d never again get a chance to talk about it with his best friend. So they had to talk about it tonight. 

‘I don’t exactly see a white picket fence and two point five children in your future,’ Scorpius conceded. ‘I don’t think you two get a _normal_ life. But so what? If you want it, be together. Be happy. Screw what people said your life _should_ be. Maybe you plan some sort of future and things work out, or maybe you take it a day at a time.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Albus frowned at his bottle of Butterbeer - and then his face creased into another smile that shone with tears. ‘I thought normally _I_ gave _you_ the love-life advice.’ 

‘Only because you never _had_ a love-life.’ Scorpius elbowed him. ‘Dodging women left, right, and centre -’ 

‘ _Half_ the ones I dodged, _you_ swept away -’ 

‘Well, that was how it worked; they were just using you to get to _me_ …’ 

They went through a lot more Butterbeer, though from there they reminisced more than anything else. Albus talked a little about his exploits abroad over the past few years, and Scorpius talked around the worst of what had happened alongside Thane, around the worst of his home-life with his parents. It wasn’t that he thought Al would think less of him for it. He just didn’t want to sour their last time together such. They had to, both of them, carry this evening with them for the rest of their lives. 

Just Albus had longer to carry it. 

Scorpius could have happily stayed up at the Quidditch pitch all night, and it was past midnight before Albus stood and stretched, and started stowing their empty bottles in his bag. ‘We should head off. I bet Stubbs didn’t have this in mind when he said we could stop by.’ 

‘Yeah, and I better have a good night’s sleep. I can’t be tired on the morrow,’ Scorpius drawled, though he regretted it at Albus’ pained expression. Their Portkey for Paris was due ten in the morning. By noon he’d be dead. 

They were quiet as they tromped back to the staff room, and once more they missed the press of people, which suited Scorpius even better as an end of the evening. He didn’t speak again until they stood before the fireplace, and he knew they’d part ways here, so it was now that he stepped back and tried - and failed - to look Albus in the eye. 

‘You’ll be coming with?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Tomorrow, I mean?’ 

Albus expression dropped. ‘If you want me there.’ 

Scorpius kicked the edge of the carpet. ‘If it’s not too rough for you -’ 

‘Then I’ll be there,’ said Albus throatily. ‘Until the end.’ 

They hugged, then, embraced like brothers, but it was Albus who pulled back first, Albus who stepped through the Floo first, and Scorpius could see he was struggling to hold it together. He didn’t begrudge him escaping before he collapsed, didn’t begrudge him wanting some privacy as he went to pieces. 

But Scorpius didn’t linger, because the staff room was full of ghosts to him, and he knew ghosts were the one thing he’d have plenty of time for. 

When he stepped out of the Floo, he wasn’t in his hotel room. Rows and rows of empty desks welcomed him in the darkened warehouse, the only light coming from a table near the Floo. One of Matt’s people sat there, scribbling away, and reached for their wand as he appeared - then recognised him, grunted a greeting, and went back to transcribing. 

Even the organisation trying to destroy the Chalice and save the day kept normal office hours. Or, Scorpius noted as he saw a light at the top of the stairs leading to the cellar, most of it. 

He found Rose downstairs, sat at the outskirts of the ritual markings that housed the Chalice and all of the tests the team had conducted. Papers were strewn about the hard floor, but she was still flopped on her front on the pavings, oblivious to discomfort, moving from open book to open book, stack of notes to stack, and oblivious to him. The only light came from one of the sconces on the wall, casting flickering illumination down in her hair, hair which always took on a life of its own next to firelight, like it was joining the flames. 

Scorpius almost left right away. Left, so he could remember her like this, in her own world of focus and fire, forever with that thoughtful wrinkle of her nose, that springy lock of hair dangling wild. It would, in some ways, be easier. But this was his last night, and so he could indulge himself. Just a little. He cleared his throat. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’ 

Rose jumped about a foot in the air, immediately slamming shut several of the books and dragging notes to her like they were plans to unleash hell on Earth. ‘You - you - how long were you there?’ 

He lifted his hands. ‘Just a minute! I promise. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ 

‘You didn’t -’ She stood, clutching her notes. ‘You did. It’s okay, I was just focusing, I didn’t realise you were there.’ 

‘I could tell.’ He padded over, looking across the notes still on the floor, at the Chalice in the middle. ‘I thought the ritual was ready to go down tomorrow?’ 

‘There are some minor safety concerns, it’s why I need de Sablé in it, he’ll help make sure it goes down without any side-effects -’ 

Scorpius frowned at her. ‘There’s a risk of side-effects?’ 

Her chin tilted up. ‘Only for those participating in or near the ritual. Necromantic backlash is a possibility. And don’t look at me like that; you’re choosing to sacrifice yourself to complete this ritual. The rest of us can choose to take a _risk_ for it.’ 

‘I don’t… have an argument against that.’ He jerked his thumb towards the door. ‘I can go, if you’ve got work.’ 

‘No! No, it’s just double-checking my calculations.’ She looked down at the papers in her arms. ‘I don’t mind the company. I learnt how to work through you being a distraction.’ 

His grin twisted the corners of his lips. ‘I’m a pretty good distraction.’ 

She sat back down, and he went to the wall, sliding to the floor and still watching her. She gave him a sidelong look as she lowered her notes. ‘Is this really how you want to spend the last night?’ 

‘I can’t sleep. I can’t really eat. Which is fun when I’ve had a couple of Butterbeers.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘You know, someone would say we should probably both do something different with these hours.’ 

Rose flopped back onto her front and tucked her quill behind her ear. ‘Did you want to do something different? We could go for a walk -’ 

He shook his head. ‘Making sure the ritual is safe for everyone else is important. And besides.’ His smile softened. ‘I like watching you work. It’s soothing.’ 

‘There is nothing about my mind right now that’s soothing.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t want you to think I was avoiding you. I knew you’d be able to find me. I wasn’t sure what else there is to _say._ ’ 

‘Everything,’ Scorpius sighed. ‘And nothing.’ 

Her lips curled wistfully. ‘You’ve been with Al, then? He said he was getting you two back to Hogwarts…’ 

‘Yeah. That was nice. And horrible. Like pretty much everything. But that does remind me, I spoke to Teddy, and I kind of have - there’s something I need you to do for me -’ 

Rose sat up. ‘Name it.’ 

‘I’m leaving Teddy most of my money. Giving it to Albus last time wasn’t the most thoughtful act of my life, but it was right at the time. This time, I want to… I might not know him, but he’s family, and the family I _do_ knowcan sod off, so…’ Scorpius shifted his weight. ‘Malfoy Manor, and some money to support it, is going somewhere else, and this might cause some legal upsets, so I’d like you to make sure it goes through. Or nag your mum to make sure it goes through -’ 

‘Scorp. Whatever it is, I’ll sort it.’ 

He met her gaze, guilty and grateful. ‘I’m leaving the Manor to Harley. To be used as he sees fit for the betterment of the House Elves. I don’t know if he needs a manor or if he just needs money; I thought about leaving it to one of the unions, but I _know_ Harley, I trust him to do what’s right. And if I can do something _right_ with the family fortune, undo a little of the damage we’ve done to people over the generations, I want to. This seems like a good one.’ 

Rose wilted. ‘You have nothing to prove to anyone, you should know that.’ 

‘You know it’s not about that.’ 

She looked down. ‘I’ll make sure it goes ahead.’ Slowly, she drew a raking breath. ‘And it’s very sweet for you to leave money to Teddy.’ 

Scorpius shrugged, also looking away. ‘He invited me to the wedding. I turned him down, but didn’t have the heart to explain why. I guess he’ll realise soon enough.’ 

‘I’ll explain it.’ 

‘He said it’s unlikely your dad or Harry will make it back from Macedonia. But then, he doesn’t know Lethe’s going to be gone. So hopefully they’ll be there.’ 

‘Scorpius, you don’t need to think like this -’ 

He met her gaze again. ‘I do need to think like this. If I think about thousands of people being saved - I don’t know those people. If I think about Harry, who’s been so decent to me, making it home in time for his godson’s wedding; if I think about you getting your dad back safe and sound - _that_ _’s_ some good for the people I care about. Not just hurt.’ 

Rose sighed. ‘I’d forgotten all about Teddy’s wedding.’ 

‘You’d better go. Wear an amazing dress. Break some hearts.’ 

Her eyes snapped shut. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,’ he croaked, throat tightening despite his best efforts. ‘But I want, I really want you to be happy.’ 

‘I can’t promise that.’ Rose drew a slow, raking breath. ‘But I will… I’ll try better this time. If this ends the war, I think I’ll do what I didn’t let myself do last time - travel. And I don’t mean hide, I mean _do_ something. There’s going to be a lot of rebuilding work. I want to help with that, put the world back together. Meet new people. I can’t put my old life back together, and I don’t want to. So maybe I can make a new one. And make other people’s lives better along the way.’ 

He nodded. ‘I’ve heard worse plans.’ But then it was as if he’d run out of words, and their absence hung in the air, null space sucking in any other feeling or thought. It took effort to claw through that, to flail around until he could find something, anything - ‘I’ve realised what’s going to piss me off the most.’ She looked apprehensive, so he gave another lopsided smile. ‘I really think the Falcons are in for a shot at the Cup this season, and I’m not going to find out.’ 

She burst out laughing, harder than the comment deserved, but it killed the empty space and filled it with a warmth which, while desperate, was far better. It felt like the old days, his irreverent commentary amid her hard work, talking about everything and nothing and pushing away the world ahead in favour of the world here and now. 

‘If I’m in Britain, I’ll make sure I go to the final,’ Rose promised. 

He beamed. ‘You better. And stop supporting the Cannons, they’re _terrible_ -’ 

‘I’m a Weasley, you can’t ask that of me -’ 

‘What, tonight of all nights, I can’t make that kind of request -’ 

‘Don’t push your luck, Scorpius Malfoy…’ 

Dawn found them still down there, her notes scribbled on over and over, despite his distractions, despite the lack of sleep. He rose to greet his last sunrise with an aching back, her with more papers and theories to perfect the ritual but not, as he suspected had been the real goal, a last-minute solution. 

It was as it had to be. What they had chosen and, yet, a million miles away from any choice. 


	44. Thy Doom is Mine

There was a stab of déjà vu when Eva opened the door to her safehouse and Albus slumped in like he was Atlas with a whole new world placed on his shoulders. She hadn’t lived under a rock. She’d heard about the ritual, knew Scorpius would die tomorrow. But she’d expected Albus to be with him all this while, or to go to his parents; hadn’t expected _this_ , and the flash of familiarity was enough to make her step back. 

But he saw that, and his expression crumpled. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure where else to go.’ 

He shut the door behind him, and she stood in the middle of the room and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘How’s Scorpius?’ she asked his left shoulder, because that was easier. 

‘As could be expected. I imagine he’s with Rose now.’ Al’s voice was dull, hollow. 

When she tried to meet his gaze, she found he couldn’t look at her, either. She swallowed hard. ‘Are you alright?’ 

He let out a shuddering breath. ‘No,’ Albus croaked. ‘No, I’m really not. I thought about going to Mum. Or going to James. Or going somewhere else entirely or being on my own; I thought about all of it, I thought about all of the places I wanted to be, and I realised I - I -’ 

She took another half-step back before she could stop herself, heart thudding in her chest, and she saw him flinch at that. The tables had turned in some twisted way; no more was it him pressing and her flinching, but her acting and _he_ who was wounded by it. 

‘I wanted to be _here_ ,’ Al continued, stronger now, more ardent and honest. ‘With you. _You_.’ 

_With Eva Saida. Not with Lisa Delacroix_. She took a faltering step forward, and when he extended his hands he didn’t reach for her but turned his palms upward; waited, invited. 

She slid her hands into his, held on tight because it looked like he’d be washed away if she didn’t anchor him - and that was when she understood. She didn’t need to kiss him, take him to bed, please him to make him feel better. Just this could make a difference. Just this could be a start. ‘I’m… here,’ Eva said, the words feeling strange - not like they didn’t fit her mouth, but like they and their meaning were new and needed breaking in. ‘And - and it’s just you and me, and we can be _us_ like this, can’t we?’ 

_Reassurance probably isn_ _’t meant to be a question._   
  
She’d managed to steer him to the couch before he slumped down, like all his strings had been cut, and on some instinct she didn’t recognise and barely understood she sat next to him, slipped her arms around him. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said, because that was what people said under these circumstances. 

Albus hunched in, gaze dropping to his hands. ‘It’s not. _I_ _’m_ not going to be.’ 

_Well, what do I say to that._ She slid in closer, one hand at his shoulder, the other rising to brush his hair out of his eyes. It still felt strange to reach for him, to be able to run her fingers across his skin whenever she wanted, and even stranger to do it now. _Soothing_ was not something she’d ever tried to be, but all of a sudden it felt very, very important. ‘You’ll be different,’ she murmured, voice throaty and uncertain but not insincere. ‘And it’ll be hard. But you _are_ strong, and you - and you know what it’s like to be beaten by grieving for him. You know that’s not a place you want to go again.’ 

To her horror, this was when he gave a low, choking sob and collapsed against her, burying his face in her shoulder. All she could do was wrap her arms around him, hold him close as his breath came in laboured gasps he tried to defeat. ‘He’s my brother,’ Albus sobbed. ‘And I’ve tried - I spent all night being strong for him, spent all night promising him I’d be okay, that I’d help everyone _else_ be okay. But I don’t know how to do that, I don’t know how to do that for him or do that for _me_ or how to even _be_ without him…’ 

She pressed her lips to his forehead, kissed his cheek, buried her fingers in his hair and mumbled comfort in half-remembered Arabic, knowing he needed the feeling, not the words themselves. He let himself weep at that, huge, gulping sobs that wracked his body, and holding him like this, Eva thought, was worse than the look on his face when he’d learnt she’d lied, was worse in a way than thinking he’d died. Feeling him in this sort of agony and capable of only holding him and whispering incomprehensible reassurance was like a stab in the gut. Those previous wounds had been cold as ice, but this burnt like fire, and all she could do was hold him closer, tighter, for them both. Eva had learnt, by now, that he was not always strong - but she’d feared that weakness before, feared who it made him. Now she feared it simply because she didn’t know how to bring him back. 

The answer, it turned out, was to keep on doing what she was doing, and then to wait. He silenced eventually, ran out of tears and ran out of sobs and curled in her embrace, a fallen giant whose tumble she could not imagine breaking - and yet, here she was. Long minutes passed before he spoke again, and when he did it was just a mumbled, ashamed, ‘Thank you.’ 

That only made her tighten her grip. ‘I - I’ll do whatever you need. Whatever helps.’ 

‘This helps,’ he croaked. ‘You help.’ 

‘I’m more used to helping by blowing people up with my wand.’ It was an unspoken apology, tinged with conviction someone else could have done better. 

Albus lifted his head only enough to kiss the corner of her jaw, and his breath was feather-light across her skin. ‘This is more important.’ 

_When Scorpius dies, when Lethe dies and the Inferi die, and then the Council of Thorns dies, I go to prison. And then this dies, too._ That made it easier, even if it was a fresh, burning wound, and she ran her fingers through his hair, marvelled at the closeness without urgency, the need without fire. ‘You can stay here,’ she murmured, ‘as long as you like.’ 

His response was low and awkward in kind. ‘All night?’ 

The burning wound became a lower, warming fire in her gut, and she kissed his forehead. His skin was soft under her lips, and she had, Eva thought, never done this with someone. Never kissed them in gentle comfort, never held them like this, and even if it came in a time of howling pain and loss, a part of her never wanted this to end. She fought back a smile. ‘As long as you need.’ 

_Forever. Can we try forever? s_ he wanted to say, but didn’t speak because she knew the answer. _No. No, we can_ _’t._

* * 

‘ _…can’t possibly comment -’_   
  
_‘ - pursuing all avenues -’_   
  
_‘No comment.’_   
  
_‘No comment.’_   
  
_‘No comment.’_   
  
‘So it’s good to see security has _improved_ in my absence,’ Scorpius said archly as they bull-rushed their way through the journalists waiting for them outside the Portkey chamber in the French Magical Assembly. 

‘Someone will have seen my name on a Portkey request, assumed we’re up to something.’ Matt let security urge the crowd back and led them on, not through the main corridors into the lobby where they’d no doubt be beset further, but through a door on the side to a spiral staircase. Most other magical government centres went underground to hide from Muggles; Paris had, instead, stolen an island and thus French wizards were dauntless in their displays of opulence, and had no qualms about building tall. 

‘We don’t need to worry,’ said Albus, taking up the rear like a looming, reassuring shadow. ‘They might be right in putting two and two together, but they’re clutching at straws. They know nothing for sure.’ 

‘I know I don’t need to worry,’ said Scorpius. ‘Not only do I not need to deal with the aftermath, but my PR is golden from here on. Or it better be. I want a goddamn statue.’ 

He got a sharp look from Rose for his comment, even though she’d tried to stop herself, and he dropped his gaze. Guilt was not one of the last things he wanted to feel. Then again, he suspected mind-numbing terror had pre-booked the front row seats. 

‘They might not know anything,’ said Selena, up at the front next to Matt, ‘but they’re _annoying_.’ 

‘That,’ came a new voice as they were led through a wide set of double doors into a well-furnished office, ‘is my fault. They picked up my scent. I’m very sorry, dear.’ 

Scorpius felt a whole new twinge as Selena broke into a wide smile. ‘Mum!’ 

Lillian Rourke waved away her security so she could hug her daughter, but they were both consummate professionals, and soon enough she was advancing on Scorpius, extending a hand. ‘Mister Malfoy, I don’t have the words for what you’re doing.’ 

‘Courageous. Heroic. Kind of sexy.’ He shook her hand, and out of the corner of his eye saw Rose having to avert her gaze. He didn’t know if he was in danger of making her laugh or cry; probably both, which was far worse. 

Lillian’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, which shone with a sympathy that was altogether more annoying. ‘I thought it only appropriate I come here before the end. Someone has to thank you properly. Officially.’ 

_For whose benefit is that? Mine? Or yours?_ ‘Thank you,’ he said instead, and wasn’t sure why he was telling white lies when he wasn’t going to have to live with the disapproval or the consequences. ‘You can tell the masses whatever you want; I mean, so long as it keeps people happy and up-beat -’ 

‘I will tell the world the truth. Everyone is going to know of this as your heroic sacrifice. Everyone is going to know the name “Malfoy” and think of a man who died to save the world.’ Lillian sighed. ‘If there is anything I can do, you only need to ask.’ 

‘I’d ask for a yacht, but I don’t think I’ll be around to use it next summer.’ Scorpius’ lips thinned and he sobered. ‘When my father is found - and if my mother is found to be involved - please just judge them fairly. I don’t know what that’s going to entail. I don’t know if that’ll mean firing them into the sun for what they’ve done or giving them a slap on the wrist, but you’ll have enough scapegoats. Give them what they deserve. Not enough people get that.’ 

‘I’ll do what I can.’ Lillian looked to the others - at Matt, who wilted a little under her gaze, and Scorpius smothered some fledgling amusement at _that_ dose of awkward. At Rose, whose expression was settling into the blank mask he knew so well, at de Sablé, who had kept his head bowed in polite deference, and at Albus, who had since their journey began been bristling like a guard dog. ‘Mister Potter, I believe I owe you thanks for your aid with the British Ministry.’ 

‘Not me,’ said Albus, shaking his head. ‘That was all Ms Saida. I had nothing to do with it.’ 

‘Indeed. She and I will have much to talk about. But later -’ 

Lillian was cut off by a noise from the next room, a low, rattling hiss that ran up Scorpius’ spine, and before he knew it he’d spun around, wand in hand, facing the closed door. ‘What’s -’ 

He wasn’t the only one to react like that, but Lillian’s security blocked the way, and she lifted her hands. ‘I’m sorry. Please relax. That’s nothing to worry about.’ 

‘That’s an Inferius,’ said Rose. 

‘It is. It’s contained.’ Lillian sighed. ‘We don’t want to alert the world to what’s happening today. We don’t want to get hopes up and we don’t want to risk Council interference. But we do want to monitor the consequences. We have those afflicted with Lethe under observation, to tell if the plague spontaneously dissipates. And we have an Inferius right here, under all sorts of charms and containments, to see if they themselves collapse with the destruction of the Chalice.’ 

‘Lethe will end,’ said Matt, jaw tight. ‘What’ll happen to an Inferius, I can’t possibly predict.’ 

‘We’ll see.’ 

‘Yeah, you will,’ said Scorpius, shifting his feet. ‘But are we done here? I kind of want to… get this over with.’ Everyone stared at him, and he shrugged. ‘No offence, but I’ve _had_ all the fun bits of my last moments on Earth. Talking politics is pretty good at making me do nothing but think about dying. I’ve had my last breakfast. I’ve had my last cup of coffee. I’ve brushed my teeth for the last time, because dental hygiene’s important in the Otherworld. Let’s get this show on the road.’ In truth, if he stood there and nodded and smiled he was in danger of vomiting from fear. Rushing ahead and joking was, as ever, easier. 

The corners of Lillian’s eyes creased, and she nodded to one of her aides. ‘We have a Portkey to get you to the Catacombs chamber directly. I had my personal security clear the place out over the last few days. They will have been discreet, and their loyalty is above question.’ 

Once again they shook hands, and then one of the wizards flanking her brought out an old brown bottle, which they set on the desk, swished their wand over, and stepped away from. Scorpius looked over his shoulder at the other five, lips twisting. ‘Once more into the breach, huh?’ 

‘Unto,’ Matt chirped, then his cheeks coloured and he stepped in to join them all as they grasped the Portkey. 

The world swished and swirled before them, and Scorpius’ head snapped around at the last moment, fixed on the huge windows through which bright winter sunlight spilt into the office. It was, he realised as it winked away forever, the last time he’d see the sky, the last time he’d see the sun. 

And then they stood in the square, dim, dank chamber of rock and stone where he was going to die. 

They’d been here before. Two and a half years ago, they’d stood in this room and tried to figure out the hidden wall, and while others had come back to crack the secret or investigate the magic, Scorpius had only seen the place once. He’d been distracted at the time, worrying more about where he was going to take Rose for dinner and how their fledgling relationship was faring, fussing more about whether they were going to hunt Prometheus Thane right up until he killed them all. 

A long time ago. A lifetime ago. 

Matt’s people had brought the Chalice over already. It sat in its alcove in the wall, the place the Knights Templar had prepared for it centuries ago, and the low sconces along the wall gleamed golden firelight along its silver surface. Scorpius had to work hard to not glare at it. 

_You have been nothing but trouble to me._   
  
‘Right.’ Matt clapped his hands together, voice quavering a little, and stepped forward. Between the Chalice and the huge stone sarcophagus in the centre, the one which was supposed to be the final resting place of Sir Reynald de Sablé, ritual markings had already been carved into the stone. ‘Everything’s been made ready, as per Rose’s calculations and instructions. The markings are there. The structure of the ritual is there. It’s positioned such that the Chalice is already tapped into it, and will start responding the moment there’s power in the ritual.’ He looked at Rose. ‘What do you need?’ 

‘I need you,’ said Rose, jaw tight. ‘And I need Sir Reynald. And Scorpius, of course. But Scorpius is the means by which I’ll be closing the breach from the side of the Otherworld. You provide power in the ritual, a living man who’s been touched by the Chalice. Sir Reynald’s here because I need something bristling full of life magic, like him, to balance out the energies in the area when the breach is shut. Or killing Scorpius could cause a necromantic backlash, and we know what those backlashes are like.’ It was, after all, what had killed Methuselah. 

She pointed to the markings on the floor, where into the wide curves of the ritual were three smaller, closed circles. ‘You won’t need to do much. Stand in there and let me invoke.’ 

Scorpius looked over at her. ‘I didn’t realise this became your show.’ 

She didn’t quite meet his gaze. ‘I learnt a lot from Methuselah.’ 

_Do did I. Like how to die gloriously in the middle of a ritual._   
  
Selena eyeballed the markings. ‘Is this _safe_? I mean, for Matt and de Sablé.’ She threw him an apologetic glance. 

‘Don’t worry, I’m so _beyond_ petty offences right now. It’s kind of liberating.’ Scorpius shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around the room. He felt light-headed, felt his breathing come faster. It was like he was sprinting at a brick wall and couldn’t stop, but if he looked ahead he knew he’d brace himself and that would hurt more, so all he could do was pretend it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t like he could stop it. 

‘It’ll be fine,’ said Rose. ‘The ritual doesn’t _affect_ them, it only affects the Chalice. Just destroying the Chalice is what - yeah.’ She shook her head. ‘I know what I’m doing. I don’t need any more prep-work.’ 

Then Scorpius realised all eyes were on him, and he took a step back, heart pounding one beat in his chest so hard it was like a punch. It was, he supposed, doing its job while it still could. ‘Oh, shit,’ he said, and realised this probably wasn’t the inspiring finale they had expected. He looked at them all, and his shoulders slumped. ‘This is it. It’s almost full circle. We didn’t _start_ here, the five of us, but it wasn’t that long after the start, was it?’ 

They didn’t answer that, couldn’t answer that, but de Sablé took a few discreet steps back to leave him with his friends. Scorpius looked to Selena first, padded over, and she threw herself into his arms in a fierce hug. 

‘Keep them honest,’ he murmured, throat tightening already. He swallowed that down, because there was too much to do for him to start falling apart already. ‘Keep them self-aware. Like I ever needed to tell you what to do.’ 

She pulled back, his ally in facing harsh truths and his partner in cynicism, but to his relief her eyes were clear. If anyone had mastered the art of controlling their crying, it was Selena Rourke. ‘I wouldn’t have listened anyway.’ 

He smiled even though it hurt, and turned next to Matt, who stood with squared shoulders and an apprehensive gaze. Scorpius stepped over and extended a hand before he thought about it, winced apologetically - then Matt’s prosthetic right hand was shaking his, and the grip was firm, not crushing. 

Scorpius clasped his hand with both and leaned in, dropping his voice. ‘This is _my_ choice, not your doing. But in making this possible, in figuring this out, you’ve proved again what should have been said before: you’re a goddamn hero, Matthias Doyle.’ 

‘Yeah, well.’ Matt gave an awkward, one-shouldered shrug as Scorpius pulled back. ‘Trust you to overshadow me with your dramatics.’ 

Scorpius’ grin at that was less painful, because of course it was easier to act like this was all banter, not a proper farewell. But then he turned to face Albus, and everything inside him started to collapse. 

Albus wrapped him in a bear hug, and he could almost feel the threads of tension holding him together, like iron rods without which he, too, would be shattering. ‘We’ve said it all, mate,’ Al whispered. ‘But I promise I’ll find your father. I promise I’ll get answers, even if you don’t hear them. I promise I’ll make sure he’s treated fairly.’ His voice dropped another notch, so low Scorpius could barely hear him. ‘And I’ll take care of them. I promise that, too.’ 

The world swum before Scorpius’ vision when he pulled back. Albus stepped away and then it was Rose in front of him, her eyes shining, hands twisting together like she had some atrocity to confess to. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a low, croaking voice. ‘I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_ -’ 

It was easier to not fall apart when he needed to keep her together. Scorpius stepped in, seized her hands, bowed his head. ‘You didn’t do this,’ he whispered. ‘This was the Council’s work and _my_ choice, Rose - not you, _never_ you -’ 

‘You don’t understand -’ 

He did understand. He knew she’d carry this with her forever, how she’d perfected the ritual that would kill him. But he also understood why it had to be her, why she had to have some control over the fate she was helpless to avoid, and so all he could do was silence her protests. 

He kissed her, and she flowed into his arms like they were water, like the river rushing into the sea, separate and yet one whole. His fingers buried in her hair, her hands curled in his jacket, a low whimper escaped the back of her throat and everything slowed, everything stopped, like perfection was a moment, and a moment he could live in forever - because he wasn’t going to get another. 

But it ended too soon, because it ended before the seas dried up and the stars fell. 

Her eyes were clear when she broke the embrace, voice low but steady, urgent. ‘I love you.’ 

_If I have to go again, I want to go as a man embracing the sacrifice, not a man clutching the woman he loves saying,_ _‘Please, no, I don’t want to go!’_   
  
_Please, no, I don_ _’t want to go, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to -_   
  
How could a dead man have a scrap of strength left in him? But Scorpius found it all the same, plundered it from every memory of her smile, every memory of laughing with Albus, every memory of being terrified and yet carrying on regardless. He had to, just for seconds more, just for _them_ ; they couldn’t remember him breaking and begging and weeping at the end. 

He couldn’t lie to her, but he could tell her a different sort of truth, a better truth, a simpler one. ‘I love you,’ he said, meeting her gaze, and knew he couldn’t regret those being the last words to pass his lips. 

She pulled back at that, let her wand slip into her hand, and then she was all business, all assertion. ‘Right. Places. Al, Selena, if you’d - if you’d step back, this is going to take the four of us.’ There was only the slightest quaver in her voice, and his heart swelled at the sight of her. Certain, powerful, dauntless even in the face of a horror he knew would break him were the roles reversed. 

_I don_ _’t want to go._   
  
He walked to the ritual markings alongside Matt and de Sablé - de Sablé, who simply paused to shake his hand and said nothing more, which suited Scorpius fine. Rose pointed to different circles and they stood where instructed, and then he was there, hands empty, looking at the other five in the room as if he were a man facing a firing squad he’d willingly surrendered to. Selena and Al had backed off towards the door. Al put his arm around her, and Scorpius could remember him holding her like that after Phlegethon, when she’d wept over Methuselah’s body. He wondered if Rose would break down like that over his body this time. Then he wondered if he’d even _have_ a body. 

Rose knelt to put the tip of her wand to the markings, and they sparked to life, lighting up with golden energy that crackled across every engraving. Scorpius looked down at them to see a medley he couldn’t begin to make sense of; alchemical symbols, Latin words, a prevalence of what he thought was Ogham and something he was sure Rose had once referred to as Enochian. With the light came a wave of force, one he could feel rising around him, keeping him in the circle, probably unable to break it even if he wanted to. 

No. He _wanted_ to. He just _wouldn_ _’t_. 

He thought it would be easier to watch Rose - Rose as she paced about the circle, chanting incantations in a clear voice, the magical light shining through her hair and gleaming behind her, coating her in a glorious halo. Even though he couldn’t think of a better way to see her for the last time, it was too bright, too piercing, and he had to look away. A wind tugged at his hair, even though they were deep underground, a wind carrying those whispers on it he knew so well, knew perhaps better than he knew himself. 

_I guess it_ _’s time to find out if I’m a genius after all._

The sconces flickered, the corners of the room away from the gleaming ritual falling to shadow. He looked at the Chalice, silver rippling under the shining arcane energies. It was nothing to him, he thought; just a bauble he’d curse, and yet it was everything. The reason he’d died, the reason he came back, the reason he’d be gone again. Tethered to him, so they said, but he’d never _felt_ that, just been told it. He’d never felt different since coming back. Not _really_. 

_I don_ _’t want to go._   
  
The wind picked up, and he looked at Matt on his right, his fists clenched by his side, the shining light making his prosthetic glow like he was clutching the sun. 

_After all. I_ _’m the best at this._   
  
Where the light of the ritual didn’t reach, the shadows looked darker, more monstrous, and he couldn’t make out the shapes of Albus or Selena any more. He looked to de Sablé, on his left, stood with eyes closed, lips moving in what was doubtless a prayer, and couldn’t fight back the stab of jealousy. The Chalice had given de Sablé everything it was taking away from _him_. 

_I don_ _’t want to go._   
  
Rose finished her circuit of the ritual, her chanting continuing in that same low, steady voice, and despite himself, Scorpius looked to her - hair wilder, eyes gleaming, bathed in the magical energy and light, painted gold and perfection. 

_Call them off! Or I_ _’ll drop this and you’ll never fucking get it back -_   
  
She stopped incanting, wand held high, and it felt like he was being _pinched_ inside, tightened and then drawn out. Was he being dragged through already, inch by inch stretched before he would be catapulted back? Back to oblivion, back to that nothing and that everything, and it wasn’t _that_ bad, really, except for those he’d leave behind - 

_I don_ _’t want to go._   
  
Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat - for one last, thudding heartbeat that was like a roll of thunder, or perhaps that was the sound of a bridge collapsing, of a breach sealing, and this, thought Scorpius Malfoy, was how it would end. Looking into the eyes of the woman he loved before she signed his death warrant. 

_I don_ _’t want to go._   
  
Except at the last second, before she brought her wand crashing down on the ritual markings, she looked away, gaze snapping to his left. 

The ritual burst into bright, blinding light. 

_I don_ _’t want to go._


	45. The Dream to Come

Teddy and Victoire’s wedding was four days after the ritual, so when there was a knock on the safehouse door Eva thought she was going to be arrested again. 

This was not mollified by her opening up for three burly wizards, all wearing the crest of the IMC, to barrel past her and stalk across the flat in what she recognised as room clearance tactics. Aside from a curt, ‘Don’t move,’ they didn’t address her, and so she waited, hand nowhere near her wand. One of them eventually seemed satisfied and returned to the corridor, before returning with a stout wizard she recognised, but had to squint at before she knew how. 

‘Judge Roux, isn’t it?’ He was one of the civilians evacuated from South Africa, one of the VIPs Geiger had specifically wanted. But knowing who he was did not make any of this less confusing. 

Roux waved a hand at the trio of enforcers. ‘Wait outside. I’ll be quite alright.’ They had to be glared at before they left, but troop out they did, leaving the door open. Roux rolled his eyes and tucked his thumbs in his rather wide belt. ‘War’s over, and they still think Thornweavers lurk behind every shadow.’ 

‘There are still numerous Thornweavers unaccounted for, sir.’ 

‘Very true. But I rather doubt you’re hiding them under your coffee table. May I sit down?’ 

Numb, she gestured him to the threadbare sitting area, for the first time embarrassed by her living conditions. Even if this had been provided by the British DMLE, Roux looked like a wizard accustomed to the finer things in life. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ 

‘For me? Oh, I think you’ve done quite enough for me, Ms Saida, quite enough indeed.’ Roux eased himself onto an armchair that creaked under his bulk. ‘I was heartened to hear you haven’t been locked up in Azkaban like a common prisoner.’ 

‘That will probably happen, sir. But my contract was ratified by Director Potter, and until he or his officers are back from Greece, apparently nobody wants to step up.’ While she couldn’t begrudge her freedom, imprisonment hanging over her like a sword of Damocles had not made the last few days enjoyable. 

‘A provisional government was formally reinstated in Greece yesterday afternoon. I imagine the British DMLE will be able to worry about itself soon enough.’ 

‘And a provisional government’s back up in South Africa.’ Eva peered at him, and wondered how to politely ask why he was here, instead of across the world and repairing the damage done to his country. 

‘The Council was only there for a week, if that,’ Roux said, as if reading her mind. ‘Aside from Durban and the Department, most of South Africa was untouched. People fled their influence and their Inferi and went to ground. With a few more weeks, the situation might have ended up more like Greece, insurgents and dissidents hunted down and eradicated, but mercifully Britain managed to pull through and wipe out Lethe in time.’ 

‘It’s just as well destroying Lethe meant destroying all the Inferi, too, or this could have been a lot nastier.’ 

‘Quite.’ He looked around the spartan flat, brow furrowing. ‘Do you have coffee here? If not, we can go and have some coffee -’ 

‘I have coffee, sir.’ She sprang to her feet. ‘Sorry. I’m not used to guests.’ 

His eyes fell on one of Albus’ jumpers on the back of the sofa, huge and clearly not hers. ‘So I see.’ 

To avoid embarrassment, she hurried to the kitchenette and made coffee and hoped Judge Roux was going to explain his presence on her armchair sometime soon. But even when she’d set a chipped, steaming mug in front of him and mumbled an apology for a lack of milk or sugar, he just took a huge gulp and smacked his lips and said, ‘The DMLE might need you a little while longer. Thornweavers are being chased out of Brazil as we speak, but there’s still no sign of Raskoph.’ 

‘The Council has lost its shock troops, and we exploited their sudden loss of Inferi so quickly we’ve crippled their numbers. Raskoph is going to be a renegade wizard with a handful of followers, now, not a global threat.’ She shook her head. ‘The only thing the DMLE might need me for is the completion of my contract.’ 

‘To find Draco Malfoy, yes. He still hasn’t emerged?’ 

Gregory Goyle had yet to resurface. Considering the world had turned chaotic with the Council’s sudden defeat, she wasn’t that surprised. ‘He will, sir. And Aurors or Enforcers can probably be spared to chase him down.’ 

Roux sipped more coffee. ‘And then it would be prison for you.’ 

‘That was the agreement, sir.’ 

‘I’ve seen your records. Warrants out for your arrest even before the emergence of the Council of Thorns. Murder, espionage, theft, massive damage to government and public properties - some very nasty accusations in there.’ 

Eva looked down at her hands. ‘“Accusations” makes it sound like they’re in doubt, sir.’ 

‘So they’re true?’ 

A muscle in the corner of her jaw twitched. From outside the bright winter sun shone through the window, throwing up dust mites in the air of her grimy flat. ‘If I had any legal representative they’d probably groan in despair at this, but, yes, sir.’ 

‘There’s nothing binding about this. We’re just having a conversation.’ Roux settled back in his chair. ‘But I admit I’m surprised to hear that. I’d thought there had to be some mistake.’ 

‘Why?’ She couldn’t keep a wry note out of her voice. ‘Because I helped you?’ 

His brow knotted. ‘At enormous and unnecessary risk to yourself. Ms Saida, there are Enforcers and Aurors who would not have attempted what you did. Much less succeeded. Every person who was saved from South Africa’s Department of Magic owes you their life. Every single one. So I am here to ask you a simple question: why did you do it?’ 

‘What?’ 

He seemed unaffected by such bluntness. ‘You were a Thornweaver, and before that you were a mercenary and contract killer. Why, when presented with an opportunity to escape a deadly situation, did you instead save thirty lives at great personal risk?’ Roux lifted a hand. ‘And before you invoke your working relationship with Albus Potter, he was believed dead at the time. He was also the only person who would likely vouch for you at a sentencing hearing; without his good word, returning to Britain would have almost guaranteed your lifelong incarceration.’ 

‘I _did_ go after Erik Geiger on something of a suicide run,’ Eva pointed out. 

‘That does not answer my original question. Tell me, Ms Saida.’ He leaned forwards, clasping his hands together. ‘Why does a Thornweaver risk their neck to save thirty innocent people?’ 

It was a simple question simply put, and yet Eva stared into Judge Roux’s dark eyes and found no answer reflected in them. _Because Albus asked me to_ , was her first thought, but even that didn’t feel right. Eventually, all she could say was, lamely, ‘Because I could.’ 

‘Capability is not the same as a moral imperative.’ 

‘It is when you’ve killed as many people as I have,’ she said without thinking - then tensed, and immediately dropped her gaze. 

Roux was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was low, thoughtful. ‘To make amends, then.’ 

‘Yes - no. I know it doesn’t make up for it. Saving one life doesn’t even out taking another.’ She found herself wringing her hands together, and didn’t look up. 

‘No, it doesn’t.’ 

‘I tried to change, sir. I left the Council and I tried to fight them. I can’t really explain what I was thinking in South Africa, though; I just _acted_. I _had_ to, I - why does someone like me get to waltz out of that situation without even _trying_ to save people who don’t deserve what Geiger would have done?’ Eva didn’t think of herself as someone bad with words. She used them all the time to lie and manipulate. But finding the right words for honesty was a whole different game. 

‘That wouldn’t be right, no,’ said Roux. 

‘I don’t expect it to make much sense, sir.’ She forced herself to meet his gaze again. ‘It doesn’t make much sense to me.’ But this man was putting her off-balance like nobody but Albus could, so she cleared her throat, straightened up. ‘Why are you asking, sir?’ 

‘I wanted to know. I wanted to understand. You saved my life, and the lives of many of my people.’ He reached inside his robes and pulled out a scroll, sealed by wax. ‘The IMC will be in session all next week at Niemandhorn, the most important representatives of the world discussing the most important issues of the world. The Council is beaten, routed, being hunted down everywhere as we speak, but peace can be as complicated as war. We have to think about recovery, resources, government, bureaucracy. Justice. The only merit in fighting great evil is that it is often uncomplicated in matters of justice. Dark wizards hurt and kill people, and so they are punished. But there are always outliers. Such as what to do with a former dark wizard who turned on their masters and saved lives at great personal risk.’ 

Eva stared at him, unable to fathom where this conversation was going. 

Roux placed the scroll on the table. ‘This is a summons to Niemandhorn next week. A session of the IMC’s Judicial Assembly will be held to determine if you are to be pardoned.’ 

‘P-pardoned?’ Eva had never stammered before in her life. 

‘I will be giving my personal recommendation that the Assembly do so. And seeking accounts from Mister Potter - ah, both of them - and other colleagues and survivors of the Department to lend credence to your case. It also doesn’t hurt that you handed vital information to Chairman Rourke which led to the uprooting of corruption in the very heart of the British Ministry.’ Roux smiled, white teeth blinding against dark skin. ‘In my expert opinion, knowing everyone on the Assembly, knowing this pardon has Chairman Rourke’s backing, the hearing is going to be a formality. You’re going to be pardoned, Ms Saida.’ 

She shot out of her chair like it had burnt her. ‘You can’t do that.’ 

‘Not me personally.’ His smile turned kindly. ‘But the Assembly will do it -’ 

‘I’m - you’ve _read_ my file.’ Words that had come with such difficulty before now spilt out, like flood-gates of guilt had opened inside her. ‘You know how many people I’ve killed and for how little reason; the kinds of monsters I’ve worked for and helped, the things I’ve done because I was paid to and because it was efficient and because I _wanted_ to -’ 

‘Yes.’ Roux stood and straightened his robes. ‘Working for Prometheus Thane alone provides a serious rap sheet.’ 

‘You can’t just undo that! Some old wizards sat in a room together, nowhere near any of my victims or their families can’t sit in a room together and say, “what she did doesn’t matter”!’ There was an entirely new feeling rising in her chest, making her light-headed, filling her lungs as if she were drowning, and she wondered if this was hysteria. 

‘We’re not saying it doesn’t matter, Ms Saida,’ said Roux, plodding around the furniture towards her. ‘We’re saying that the _good_ you have done matters -’ 

‘But it doesn’t matter _more_!’ That was definitely hysteria, observed a lone, cold, detached part of her mind. That detached part was not, however, even remotely in charge as she curled her hands into fists and carried on with as much panic as facing a Dementor would deserve. ‘Nobody I’ve hurt is better off because I helped someone else! Nothing I’ve done is undone! I’ve hurt people and I’ve killed people and I have unleashed _suffering_ , and just because I’ve _stopped_ doing that doesn’t mean I should avoid punishment!’ 

She was shaking, now, shaking harder than she had when confronted with Albus and her misdeeds, and before she knew it Judge Roux wasn’t looking at her with kindly reassurance, but pulling her into his arms for a warm, enveloping embrace. Only then did she realise that she was crying, only then did she realise she was struggling to stand of her own accord, and the detached part of her looked on with horror as she went to pieces with the comfort of a complete stranger who seemed almost as bewildered as her by the display. 

His hug was kind, fatherly, and he pulled back only when she’d stopped shaking. She almost burst into tears again when he offered her a handkerchief. He spoke in a low, soothing voice as she mopped her eyes and considered hurling herself out of a window. ‘I have been a judge for a long time. I would venture myself to be one of the world’s leading experts on matters judicial. And if there is one thing I have learnt, it is that while the law is strict and firm, little is carved in stone. Of course there is absolute right and absolute wrong, but _people_ almost always fall somewhere in between. 

‘People are defined by their actions. And so I could define you by the hurt you have inflicted on the world. But I _must_ then _also_ define you by the lives you saved last week. Were you anyone else, Ms Saida, we would be pinning medals on you. This pardon would not be absolution for what you have done. It would not be forgiveness, nor would we pretend your past has not happened. It wouldbe recognising that you have _changed_ , and that this change has earned you something we grant everyone in this world: a chance.’ 

Eva found herself twisting the handkerchief in her hands, and she stared at it, stared at the monogram in the corner. ‘I don’t deserve this.’ 

‘While I am personally grateful to you, Ms Saida, and while I have no moral issue with this pardon, I must also be honest: politics are at play here. We must hunt down the remaining Thornweavers; this job will only be easier if some have doubts and turn themselves in, or better yet, betray their fellows. A demonstration of the _mercy_ of the International Magical Convocation makes this more likely. And that, in itself, may save lives.’ He looked at her, and covered his hand in hers in a move she thought was a request for his handkerchief until he squeezed gently. ‘Perhaps it is not wholly right for you to walk free when this war is over. But I _know_ it is not right for you to be imprisoned, either. And I have no issue, Ms Saida - no issue at all - with choosing mercy when there is doubt.’ 

Roux stepped back and straightened his robes, kindly smile intact. ‘Regardless, I have imposed long enough. I wanted to break the news myself, and issue my _personal_ thanks for what you did in South Africa. For me, for my staff, for all those people. These summons do not guarantee your freedom between now and the hearing; your liberty will be at the indulgence of Director Potter. But I shall see you in a week’s time, and I am confident that the next time we shake hands, it shall be to congratulate you on your new life.’ 

She probably said something. Probably fumbled her way through courtesies and politeness until he was out the door, and then she was alone in the safehouse and everything was as it had been before the world was turned on its head. 

The scroll sat on the coffee table in the bright winter sun, and she stared at it for a good ten minutes before she burst over and, with shaking hands, broke the seal, unrolled the parchment. 

There it was. In black and white. A summons to a pardon hearing in Niemandhorn. A _formality_ , Roux had called it. All but confirmed. 

Her eyes fell on the wall clock. Half past one. The wedding wasn’t until two. If she was fast, she could slink in and out, find Albus, tell him… 

Tell him what? 

_I have a life. I have a future._

_Do we?_

* * 

‘It’s cold,’ Lily grumbled. ‘Why’re they holding a _winter_ wedding outdoors? Do they hate us?’ 

James threw his arm around his little sister’s shoulders. ‘They don’t hate _us_ , Lils. Just you. Just you.’ 

She glared up at him. ‘I am so glad Hogwarts let me off the grounds for the weekend, just so I could be around _you_.’ 

Nobody had trooped down the long, winding path through the trees to the glade where the ceremony would be held soon. At a fork in the river, in the shadow of a great oak, would the couple and their loved ones come together to witness the union. Any frost on the ground had melted under the bright winter sun, though the air still breathed with a brisk chill that was enough to bring discomfort to those waiting. They had the shelter of the tents where the wedding breakfast and reception would be held after, but warming charms had not yet been cast, the mulled wine and hot drinks were not yet ready, and so all but the most essential participants clumped in the cold and waited. 

Albus looked at his brother and sister, though his sour expression was dented by James punching his arm. ‘You alright?’ 

‘Yeah. Yeah.’ Al looked away, across the gathered crowd of friends and families. The Weasleys were an impressive brood even before one added Teddy and Victoire’s social circles. ‘I was wondering where Rose is.’ 

‘No sign of Hugo and Hermione, either. They’ll be here.’ Lily smiled awkwardly. 

‘Yeah,’ said James, ‘and if not - I mean, she’s had a tough week. She’ll be okay. _She_ _’s_ tough.’ 

Albus looked at James and wondered how much attention he’d been paying to the last two years. All he could summon was a grunt of assent. 

‘ _So_ ,’ Lily interrupted, always the most socially smart of the trio. ‘How come neither of you brought a plus one?’ 

_Socially smart, but using her powers for evil._ Mercifully it was James who fielded this one, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Teddy told me that I couldn’t have a blank plus one. If there was someone I wanted to bring, I had to give him about two months’ notice. And Al was playing Dark Wizard Hunter too long to have _romance_.’ 

_Thanks. I think._ ‘We should ask you the same thing, anyway, Lily.’ 

Lily stuck her nose in the air. ‘I have far too much work on my plate to worry about love.’ 

James lifted a hand to his mouth and stage whispered to Albus, ‘ _She got dumped._ ’ 

‘Cam did _not_ dump me; we had a mutual -’ 

‘Uh- _huh_ …’ 

Albus knew he should have been paying more attention. Between Selena’s abduction and the ensuing chaos, today was the first time he’d seen his sister in two and a half years, and to his immense relief, Lily had just hugged him and been happy to see him without disapproval or judgement. But being here, with them and the rest of his extended family so close, all bustling around and catching up in that awkward social lull before the ceremony, was a reminder of how long he’d been away. They talked of experiences he hadn’t been a part of, work and friends and incidents that were nothing to him. It was like they spoke a different dialect. There was never any doubt that his family loved and cared for him. But now, more than ever, he was reminded that he struggled to count most of them as friends. 

And the only one of them he _did_ count as a friend was not here, and would have walked around with death on her soul even if she were. But he’d promised it would be different this time, and no matter what, that was a _good_ promise, one he _had_ to keep… 

Only when he realised Lily was saying his name did he blink back into reality. ‘Huh?’ 

‘Someone’s trying to get your attention -’ Lily peered past him. ‘Is that your criminal buddy?’ 

James followed Lily’s gaze and immediately bristled. ‘What’s _she_ doing -’ 

Albus silently cursed how, for once, James was the more astute of his siblings, and spun around. Indeed, there was a shape at the edge of the clearing where guests had been Apparating and Portkeying in, and, still in her usual, hard-wearing, practical clothes, even at this distance he could tell it was Eva. He frowned. ‘I’ll deal with it, she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t urgent.’ 

‘Hey, if we don’t get a plus one, you don’t,’ said Lily, trying hard to joke. 

‘She’s not supposed to _be_ here,’ James hissed, much less happy. 

‘She won’t be crashing the wedding, calm the hell down,’ Albus snapped, and stalked across the crunching grass towards her. 

Arms folded across her chest, at a distance she’d looked defensive, disapproving. Only when he got close did he see the set to her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, and realised this wasn’t defiance, this was anxiety. If his gut were any more capable of twisting in knots after the last week, it would have folded up inside itself. ‘Hey - what’s up?’ 

Eva looked past him and bit her lip. ‘I didn’t want to tear you away from your family, I get that today’s important -’ 

‘The ceremony’s not for a bit yet, it’s okay.’ 

‘No, this is an interruption, it can wait…’ 

Albus lifted his hands. ‘You came out here in the first place. You obviously didn’t think it _could_ wait, and I’ve got time. What’s wrong?’ 

‘I had a visitor.’ She drew a deep breath and, as if this took a supreme effort, looked him in the eye. ‘And a message. I’m being summoned to a hearing in Niemandhorn next week, during the IMC Summit.’ 

His brow furrowed. ‘For what? Evidence?’ 

‘Not exactly.’ Her expression flickered, and for a moment he thought she was going to back down again. ‘It’s to decide if I should be pardoned.’ 

‘ _Pardoned?_ ’ 

Eva took a step back, as if his shock were a blow. ‘It’s being supported by Judge Roux, who we got out of South Africa, and Lillian Rourke apparently agrees and I - I thought you’d want to know…’ 

‘I - yes -’ Words flew from him as if the wind had picked up, and for a moment all Al could do was stand in the bright winter sun and goggle. ‘How likely is this to go ahead?’ 

‘Apparently it’s much of a formality.’ Her gaze dropped to fix on his shoulder. ‘So I thought you should be warned, seeing as this changes everything.’ 

They hadn’t talked about it. They had barely talked about being in a relationship, even if he’d spent almost every night since the ritual at her flat. They hadn’t spoken about how she would be brought back to prison when his father returned, or at least when they found Draco Malfoy, or what this would mean for them. The unspoken agreement had been to make use of the time they had, and their heads had both been spun around enough by the end of the war for this snatched time together to be needed. 

And now the time limit was being taken away, and instead of drifting through what he had, Albus felt like he was free-falling. 

‘I don’t…’ He worked his jaw for a moment, not sure what he did or didn’t. 

‘You have a wedding to get to.’ Eva gestured over his shoulder and took a step back. ‘I thought you’d want to know, though. So. Take your time, and know I don’t _expect_ anything of you -’ 

‘ _Expect_? Eva, that’s not fair, we can _talk_ about this.’ 

‘ _Later_ -’ 

Then the air next to them _cracked_ , and five more figures burst into being in the clearing’s Apparition zone. 

Hermione Granger rounded on them with an imperious eye the moment she had her balance. ‘You shouldn’t be lingering here; people could get Splinched - _Albus_!’ 

She was, Albus thought distantly, inordinately pleased to see him considering the past few days. But he realised why a heartbeat later, as he took in the arrival of not just Hugo, not just a pale, dour-faced Rose, but his uncle Ron with his arms around both of his children, and - 

‘ _Dad_!’ 

Harry closed the distance to yank him into a bear-hug, and he staggered with shock more than impact, as he was by now bigger and broader than his own father. ‘Al. You’re okay - and I heard, I’m so _proud_ …’ 

‘I thought you were in Greece…’ 

‘Got back an hour ago.’ Ron beamed. ‘With the Inferi gone, we only had mopping up to do. Handed the lot of it over to the Greeks yesterday; they can sort out their own country. So, no small thanks to you guys for that.’ 

Albus pulled back to see Ron squeeze Rose’s shoulder; her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Dimly he realised Eva had disappeared from the proceedings, probably literally. That had to be something he worried about later. His family was together, Rose was here, and he’d _promised_ … 

‘Mum’s fussing over the final preparations for food.’ He jerked a thumb at the tent. ‘By which I mean she’s teaming up with Grandma and terrifying the staff. And James and Lily…’ 

‘Are right here!’ Lily hurled herself into her father’s arms, and Albus stepped back from the frantic reunions, heart thudding in his chest in a way which, for the first time in a while, was not unpleasant. 

Somehow, in the commotion, he found himself next to Ron, who clapped him on the shoulder. ‘How’re you doing?’ Despite his obvious delight at being home, concern rang through his voice, shone in his eyes. 

Albus just shrugged. ‘It’s over.’ 

‘It is. You did great work.’ 

‘ _I_ didn’t do anything to end Lethe…’ 

Ron didn’t drop his hand. ‘But it’s been a bloody hard week. Few months. _Years_. Rose is…’ His voice trailed off, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he fished for the word. 

‘I know. We’re in this together, don’t worry, I’m not…’ _I_ _’m not abandoning her again._ But then there was a commotion from the path that led to the glade, a pair of Teddy’s ushers in handsome grey dress-robes clapping their hands together and beginning to herd the gathered over. Albus turned, lips twisting. ‘I guess it’s time to worry about the happy couple.’ 

The return of Ron and Harry was more than the final piece coming together of the first big Weasley family gathering in years - though that was still enough for the procession to become a swirling mob of reunions and hugs and congratulations. It was confirmation of what could have never been hoped for in the planning of this delayed wedding: that the war was over, that hope could spring anew. Today was not some pocket of snatched time, a small light in the darkness, but a beacon on the road ahead, aspiration of things to come. New world, new lives. 

It also meant there was enough chaos for Albus to slide back through the procession and fall into step next to Rose. Somehow, she’d picked up a new dress for the occasion; he suspected the hand of Selena. Of course she would think clothes shopping was therapy. But it was better than nothing. 

‘I’m going to ask how you’re doing,’ he said in a low voice, ‘and you’re going to say you’re fine, and I’ll pretend to believe you, and we’ll have done all the obligatory pleasantries.’ 

She did smile up at him, eyes even darker against her pale skin, hair somehow brighter, like a winter’s pyre. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured, and took his arm. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’ 

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ But he didn’t want to linger on that point. ‘You look like you’re still blaming yourself.’ 

‘I’m blaming myself,’ she said, voice tightening, ‘because it’s my fault.’ 

‘How could you _possibly_ -’ 

‘I should have checked my work better; gone over my research, _found_ -’ 

‘Okay.’ He squeezed her hand on his arm, soothing. ‘I wasn’t involved in that side of things. I’ll take your word for it. But I’m here now, and I’m here for _you_ , you get me? Sod everyone else. You need me, any time, day or night, I’m here.’ 

Rose’s gaze flickered down. ‘Thanks, Al. I mean it.’ 

Guilt at how he’d failed her last time rose in his throat, and he swallowed it down, hard. The only thing to do now was to change the subject, and he elbowed her gently. ‘I see you and Selena wasted no time celebrating peace.’ 

‘We _still_ had those Madam Malkin’s vouchers.’ 

‘So, have you spoken to him? I haven’t…’ 

Her lips thinned. ‘Not yet. Apparently he’s got a lot of reading to do. Thinking to do.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Albus sighed. ‘That sounds about right.’ 

But they were at the glade by now, which was probably a mercy, and ushers directed them to their seats. With Teddy considered family already, there was less of the traditional separating of the sides, though Albus’ parents and siblings moved to the front to join Teddy’s grandmother. Albus looked at them, but tightened his hold on Rose when she went to slip away, and with an exchange of wry glances, they found somewhere unobtrusive in the middle to sit. 

Teddy stood at the front, resplendent in his own robes that looked more silver than grey, purple hair for once dulled the match the attire. He gave Albus a wink when he spotted him, but Albus could see how he shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he were a rocket ship about to explode into the atmosphere if he had to wait any longer. 

Victoire, was, of course, late. Teddy’s best man looked like he was chanting a calming mantra into the groom’s ear as they waited, and Albus caught even Rose smiling into her hand at the state he was in. But it all faded when finally she drifted into sight, walking the path through the glade on Bill’s arm. A silent sigh ran through the congregation, a relief and a release at not just the end of this wait, but all this wedding marked the end of; the end of fear, the end of pain, the end of war. 

And even after the death that had marked their recent days, Albus had to join them in their relief, and felt Rose alongside him do the same.

* * 

‘Career?’ Albus tried to swallow the mouthful of trifle he’d just taken as quickly as possible, all under the keen, disapproving gaze of Eloise, one of his Aunt Fleur’s oldest friends. ‘I hadn’t, uh, I hadn’t thought about it.’ 

‘He _did_ just help save the world,’ Lily said gamely, trying to come to his rescue. James had already abandoned their table as the wedding reception wound down, sweeping across the tent in the direction of Victoire’s friends - or, the pretty girls amongst them. Soon, the tables would be pushed to one side for the drinking and dancing, but in the meantime the table Al had hoped would be a sanctum against the judgement of the world, with his siblings and his closest cousins, had become a trap. 

‘Yes, but you have to be thinking of the _future_ , my dear,’ crooned Eloise, all bleached blonde hair and bright pink fingernails. They didn’t know her very well, but she had - according to Ginny’s grumbles - been a good friend to Fleur and a huge influence on Victoire growing up, and so considered herself part of the family. Even the family who would much rather avoid their self-appointed aunt. ‘You cannot be living off _that_ , can you? Just look at Rose! She has saved the world, too, and still she has the good job at Gringott’s.’ 

Rose gave Albus a desperate look. He met her gaze, impassive. _We_ _’re in this together._ So she took a huge gulp of fortifying, free wine. ‘Actually, I’ve resigned my job at Gringott’s.’ 

Eloise rocked back, clutching her chest. Lily almost choked on her champagne. Albus went to give her a reproachful look, then remembered his sister was of-age. ‘ _Non_! You have not told Bill, I hope, he will be _despondent_ …’ 

‘It’s his daughter’s wedding day; I think my resignation from the Curse Breakers isn’t going to make the _slightest_ ripple…’ 

‘Hey, Albus has finished his trifle!’ Hugo lunged to his feet. ‘We should move the tables. Then the dancing can start. And the bar can open.’ 

Albus glanced at Rose, forlorn, as they stood. ‘When did they grow up?’ 

‘ _Please_.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I heard all about those parties in the Slytherin Common Room in Fifth Year. You are in _no_ position to judge.’ 

‘Those were _not_ my fault,’ Albus claimed, then remembered whose fault they were, and shut up. 

But Hugo’s gambit worked, as it dismissed Eloise and began the transformation of the tent from dining chamber for speeches and good food to wide space for dancing and, if Hugo had anything to say about it, drinking. Albus threw himself into helping, because that was better than thinking about his latest faux pas, and soon enough the best man was ushering everyone back with vim and vigour. Then the band came tumbling out, and Teddy led a laughing Victoire, her dress now much less of a trip-hazard, out onto the floor for the first dance. 

‘You’re really leaving Gringotts?’ Albus leaned down to Rose, voice hushed as the happy couple twirled together. 

‘It wasn’t my dream. Maybe once, I mean, but it wasn’t for me at the time, and it’s certainly not for me now. And before you ask, _no_ , I don’t know what I’m doing next.’ She glanced up at him, and her nose wrinkled. ‘Was that Eva I saw when we arrived?’ 

‘Yes.’ He waited for his feelings to give him a reaction, now he’d had hours to cook on them, and to his extreme dissatisfaction he found nothing. ‘The IMC is considering pardoning her.’ 

It was Rose’s turn to almost choke on her wine. ‘A _pardon_?’ 

‘For South Africa and her time working for Baz, I presume.’ 

‘Well, it’s…’ She pondered this for a moment, then drained her glass. ‘Good for her.’ 

‘You’re pleased?’ 

‘Al, I am so not in a position to judge - I mean, she’s _done good_. Enough people get denied happiness. I’m not going to begrudge her that, not after what she’s done for me.’ She looked up at him. ‘Or begrudge you happiness. If that’s how that’s going to go.’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said Albus honestly. ‘We have something, but - is a relationship even _possible_? We’ve fought a war together, but it’s not like we’ve gone on dates, enjoyed the same books, watched Quidditch together, been just - you know - _people_ together.’ 

‘That’s true. But have you even had the chance to try? To find out?’ 

‘Honestly, Rose, can you imagine her sat down at a Sunday roast at the Burrow?’ 

Rose looked like she was trying to. Then she looked at her empty wine glass. ‘I don’t know if I need help to conjure that image or scrub it from my brain, but already I’m seeing the whole house on fire.’ 

‘ _Exactly._ ’ Around them, the first dance had opened up for more couples to spill out: the best man with not one, but two bridesmaids, James with Fleur’s niece, Fred and his girlfriend. Albus turned to his cousin and plucked her glass from her hand. ‘Come on. We’re dancing.’ 

‘What -’ 

‘We promised we’d enjoy this!’ He grabbed both hands and tugged her out and, laughing like he hadn’t seen her laugh in a while, she stumbled out with him. 

They didn’t know how to dance, not really, but it was a party and a family wedding and they needed, both of them, to banish the shadows of their thoughts. The music and the beat and the revelry was enough to do that, and so when the last notes drifted away, the band taking a breather before the next song, they stumbled to the side of the dance floor in enough laughing good humour to not notice much of the world around them. Or the figure stepping up beside them, resplendent in shining emerald dress robes, mop of blond hair for once tidy and presentable as he extended a hand towards Rose. 

‘You know,’ said Scorpius Malfoy, ‘I was really hoping I could cut in for the next dance.’


	46. The Shining of the Stars

The candlelight under the huge tent shone bright and silver, like starlight had been captured underneath tarpaulin. An outdoors wedding in winter would have been cold, but charms kept the frosty wind at bay, made the wedding celebrations a cosy sanctuary against all perils of the outside world. And then the band launched into a new song, and the lights sparkled, and this place was no austere escape from reality, but a joyful celebration of life. 

He’d intercepted while the dancing was still fast, the music still a steady beat, which hadn’t been so bad because it was difficult to dance and talk. It was made even harder when Scorpius realised just how _terrible_ a dancer Rose was. So it was a mixed blessing when the band swung out of one song and slipped into the next, from floor-thumping Celtic tempos to something slower, rolling, but he made sure he didn’t miss a beat. He stepped in, brought one hand to her waist and made absolutely sure she had no control of how this dance would go. 

Mostly because he still had appearances to keep up. 

He watched colour rise to her cheeks, watched her eyelashes flutter as she fought for composure, but her voice was low and throaty when she said, ‘I wasn’t sure you’d be here.’ 

‘Without international crises, turns out more people could make it. I knew Victoire would kill me _and_ Teddy if I snaffled someone’s spot at the ceremony or reception, so I told him I’d make it to the party. I wasn’t sure _you_ _’d_ be here.’ 

‘I did promise.’ 

‘ _And_ you promised to wear an amazing dress.’ Scorpius let his eyes drag over the dress, which he wasn’t equipped to describe as anything other than ‘blue’ and ‘slinky’. ‘So we’re two for two. I’d hope you wouldn’t break hearts, but maybe you decided to compromise and break men’s feet.’ 

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘I am _not_ that bad a dancer -’ 

‘I was thinking about calling in IMC peacekeepers for my toes.’ 

Rose laughed, and that tore at the tension in her eyes he’d seen since coming back, that had doubtless been there longer, and had reached new levels since the ritual. ‘Then I guess I’d better let you lead.’ 

‘Said Rose Weasley, _never_.’ 

‘What can I say? The world’s changing.’ 

Scorpius braced for what he usually felt at comments like that, the sense of a brick wall blocking him off from all future, the smothering of claustrophobic mortality. Instead there was nothing but the sense of a rolling horizon ahead, and guilt on the breeze. So while he gathered a response, he turned and dipped her. The yelp made this seem less like a smooth, romantic dance move, and more like they’d both tripped. ‘You really are _terrible_ at this.’ 

‘I had - I had better things to do the last two years!’ 

‘I was _dead_ the last two years and I can still dance better than you!’ But he grinned, grinned a ridiculous grin, and now he felt guilty for not feeling guilty, which was a whole new vista of ridiculous. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t around the last few days.’ 

‘I suppose being _not_ dead put a dampener on your plans.’ The tension returned to her eyes, though it was as if she had mastered it now, owned the pain instead of being owned by it. It wasn’t the same as the pain being gone. ‘I’m sorry about… about de Sablé.’ 

That brought a more familiar stab, but all he could do was shake his head. ‘Thank you. But you don’t need to be sorry.’ 

‘It was myscrew-up. I’m still not sure how it happened, how the transference of life-magic…’ 

‘Rose.’ He met her gaze and that shut her up. ‘I only need an explanation in so far as I want to be _really_ sure I’m not going to drop dead at some magical sneeze, or another Null field -’ 

‘No more than a centaur would drop dead in a Null field -’ 

‘I’m going to assume they don’t.’ The corners of his lips twitched, because even at his worst it was hard to not be endeared by her fierce intellect. ‘But other than that, what’s done is done.’ 

Her eyes flickered down. ‘It was still my screw-up that got him killed.’ 

‘And it’s still me who should have died in his place. We don’t forget. We don’t brush over it. But maybe this is a mistake we can _live_ with.’ He stepped in, pulled her closer, and saw how she didn’t quite meet his gaze, even as her hand at his shoulder gripped tighter. 

Maybe that was for the best. Maybe he didn’t want to linger on the topic of Reynald de Sablé for too long. Maybe he didn’t want to ask too many questions about how, when the energy dissipated and the spots in front of his eyes faded in that chamber in the Parisian catacombs, he’d been _able_ to sit up, _able_ to feel his arms and legs, _able_ to look around and see his four friends picking themselves up. See the corpse of the man who had died to destroy the Chalice in his place. 

See how Rose’s horror had been genuine, but her surprise had not quite rung true. 

So he let her move a little closer, let himself revel in the feel of her, the warmth of her, in a way he hadn’t in this life, and that had his heart pounding in his chest in a way which, for once, didn’t make him feel tense, didn’t make him feel sick. 

_I don_ _’t have to go._   
  
The party was in full swing, even if the music was in a lull. Couples swam around them, and from here he could make out the vibrant sight of Teddy and Victoire, back for another dance after a few songs of being dragged away by their friends and family. Their smiles shone enough to rival the starlit candles and added to the warmth he couldn’t feel, but sunk to his bones regardless. It ebbed across the room, and it was like he could pick out every laugh, every grin, every clink of glasses, every waft of perfumes. Nothing had changed in him, and yet everything was louder. 

‘Oh, crap,’ he hissed, eyes snapping back down to Rose. ‘Your father is eyeballing the hell out of us.’ 

She looked up, master of that tension again, and had he known her less well he wouldn’t have been able to spot it. ‘You _did_ walk into the biggest family event in years and dance with his daughter. What did you expect?’ 

‘I thought he liked me. He was always decent when I was staying with the Potters. Except for that one time he mentioned how your Uncle Charlie’s dragons eat people and then said I should visit Romania sometime.’ Scorpius’ brow knotted with mock-thoughtfulness. ‘I wonder if that was a threat.’ 

‘Sorry, Scorp. You’re at a Weasley family function. You have to put up with the Weasleys.’ 

‘Then in the finest of Malfoy traditions, I will do nothing half-heartedly. Usually that extends to fuck-ups or power-abusing oppression, but in this case…’ He stepped back, not relinquishing his hold. ‘I’m going to spin you and you’re going to try to not die, okay?’ The only thing he could say for the result was that they did not, in fact, die. She stumbled and fell against him afterwards and he caught her, both laughing so hard it was just as well the song finished then. ‘No more! I surrender!’ He led her off the dance floor, both of them in more of a state than they’d been when they arrived, cheeks flushed, hair wild. ‘The good news is your father isn’t between us and the bar.’ 

‘You can’t dodge family all night, you know.’ 

‘I wasn’t planning on it. I was just going to have a drink _first_.’ 

‘Dancing with me? Getting me a drink? Anyone would think you’re _up_ to something.’ 

He could tell she said it without thinking, said it with the flush in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes, but he felt her hesitate as they moved through the crowd for the makeshift bar. So he gave her a sidelong look and a smirk. ‘I said _I_ was going to have a drink. Don’t jump to conclusions.’ 

The joke did its work, diffusing the question but not her mood. ‘I shouldn’t have assumed you chivalrous.’ 

‘I respect your self-reliance. You’re a strong, independent woman. You can order your own drink,’ he said, leaning against the bar as they got there. She rolled her eyes, did so, and once she’d had a sip he smirked and said, ‘You’re welcome.’ 

‘I’m not _thanking_ you for letting me get my own drink.’ 

‘Actually, when I _didn_ _’t_ die and leave everything to Teddy, I paid for the bar as a wedding gift instead. So technically I got you that drink.’ 

His triumphant grin didn’t flicker even when she swatted him on the arm. ‘You are _such_ a snob.’ 

‘Also, technically, I got _everyone_ in this party a drink.’ Scorpius mock-frowned at the gathering. ‘I wonder if that means Al will dance with me, too…’ 

‘I knew it. You come back and sweep _Albus_ off his feet; this was inevitable.’ 

‘Hey.’ Despite himself, his gaze sobered and his hand shot out to grasp hers. ‘I do want to go catch up with Al. And I should give Teddy and Victoire my best. And I’ll let you check in with your dad and Hugo after all this time.’ _And they can maybe see you smile like this, because the world should see you smiling like this._ He swallowed the surge in his chest. ‘Then when we’re done, when it’s a bit quieter, we can… talk, maybe?’ 

Her cheeks coloured once more. ‘Yeah. That’s - we should - can do that -’ 

Scorpius smiled, the teasing twist back as he stepped in. ‘And maybe by then you’ll have remembered your vocabulary.’ 

Indignation returned to her eyes. ‘And maybe by then _you_ _’ll_ have -’ 

But he lifted her hand, brought her knuckles to his lips for a feather-light kiss, and her words collapsed along with her indignation. His smirk only broadened as she sputtered. ‘Good comeback.’ 

Rose’s eyes narrowed. ‘This isn’t over.’ 

‘I’m counting on it,’ he said, smile intact as he took his glass of the best champagne and waltzed away from the bar. Again his heart thudded in his chest, except in the weeks before it had been a countdown. Now it was a drum-beat to march to, head high, a chant that he was alive, alive, _alive_. 

So he had no qualms about shouldering his way through the crowd by sheer presence, his exuberance alone enough to make people step back to let him intercept Teddy and Victoire as they emerged from the dance floor. ‘Congratulations!’ 

Teddy brightened, and his handshake was firm, genuine. ‘You made it.’ 

‘My schedule opened up, so how could I turn down a party?’ He rounded on Victoire, took her hand and bowed down to kiss it, though with much more ridiculous, self-aware pomp and flourish than with Rose. ‘You look fantastic.’ 

‘Thank you, Scorpius,’ she said, far less icy than at their last meeting, as if the warming charms defrosted more than winter. ‘And thank you for -’ 

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s the least I can do, making sure everything goes swimmingly. Even if it’s swimming in champagne.’ He turned back to Teddy. ‘I thought about what you said. I will pay your Gran a visit, though not tonight. The heavy stuff can wait.’ _Or, I have enough heavy stuff. Let_ _’s get the old baggage under control before I pick up some new._   
  
But there was a press of well-wishers behind him, so he didn’t linger. Finding Albus in the crowd was easier than expected; Weasley hair normally stood out, but for once he was searching for someone who _wasn_ _’t_ a redhead. He found Albus _next to_ a redhead, though. Lily bounced when she saw him, and hurtled over for a hug. ‘Scorpius! You’re not dead!’ 

Scorpius rocked back with genuine surprise. ‘I know! Isn’t it awesome!’ 

‘I didn’t know I particularly gave a damn and then you were _dead_ and that _sucked_!’ She pulled back, beaming. Then he saw the glass of fizzy wine in her hand and understood. ‘I didn’t see you arrive! Then you were dancing with Rose and nobody wants to interrupt _those_ smoochies - I mean, I assume there are smoochies -’ Lily looked cautiously at Al. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ 

Albus gave a hapless shrug. ‘I’m so not the person to ask.’ 

‘Oh yeah, _he_ _’s_ having smoochies with a criminal mastermind.’ Lily jerked her thumb at him. 

‘Would you _please_ stop saying, “smoochies”?’ her brother groaned. 

‘Hey. Hey. Omega Potter.’ Scorpius had to try twice to get Lily’s attention. ‘You should go top up your glass; the bar’s only free for the first five hundred galleons and it looks like James is trying to exhaust that before midnight.’ 

‘That’s -’ She turned to the bar and almost fell over. ‘How dare he!’ Then she was off, barely giving them a wave. ‘Bye! Try to stay not-dead!’ 

‘I’m getting really good at it!’ Scorpius called in her wake. 

Albus gave him a flat look. ‘When she vomits everywhere, I’m telling Mum to blame _you_.’ 

‘Not fair! She was _clearly_ doing fine without my help.’ 

‘Yeah, but _you_ made the bar free.’ 

‘I know, right? Cheers.’ He lifted his champagne glass, and Albus couldn’t help but beam and raise his own. ‘So how’re you doing, mate?’ 

‘Me? I should be asking you.’ Al watched as he perched on the table next to him. ‘What with your plans thrown into wild disarray by being not-dead.’ 

‘I know, it’s a scheduling nightmare.’ Scorpius sighed and had a gulp of his drink. ‘It’s like I’m deliriously happy but want to vomit. Is that normal?’ 

‘What the hell’s _normal_ any more? I don’t think I even care. I’m just glad you’re here. I’m sorry Rose feels like she fucked up the ritual and got de Sablé killed, but I can’t be sorry things worked out like this.’ Albus gave a guilty shrug. ‘Call me an arsehole. He’s not my brother.’ 

Scorpius slammed his eyes shut and bowed his head, because it was that or burst into tears in the middle of a party. ‘You’re not an arsehole,’ he croaked after a moment. 

Albus threw his arm over his shoulder. ‘You’ve _earned_ this, mate. I know, I know, life and death is never about earning or deserving, it’s just what it _is._ But you know how you made me promise to stand by everyone when this was over? Now that includes you. And you don’t get to wallow in guilt - guilt for being alive, or guilt for daring to _like_ being alive. I won’t allow it.’ 

Scorpius swallowed hard, and gave himself a few moments to make sure he was back in control before he said, with a forced but not insincere smile, ‘I should have made you promise to not dance.’ 

‘Hey, I’m not that bad!’ Albus paused. ‘There wasn’t much time for dance lessons when roaming the world, hunting evil!’ 

‘Rose used a similar excuse! There weren’t dance lessons in the _Otherworld_ , either!’ 

‘Fine! We’ll have to go out, and you can show me how it’s done.’ 

‘You asking me to dance? ‘Cos there’s still a band, and it’ll hilariously horrify Rose…’ Scorpius put his glass down, giggling, but Albus raised his hands. 

‘Oh, no. I don’t dare invoke wrath of Rose. I wasn’t gone long enough to forget _that_.’ 

‘Nobody can be gone long enough to forget that.’ He grinned and retrieved his drink. ‘Besides, seems you’re spoken for in the case of _smoochies_.’ 

Albus turned bright red, and that just made Scorpius smile even broader. ‘Yeah, Lily’s just been dumped so she’s living vicariously; maybe if she finds someone new she’ll stop using that word.’ 

‘Nice evasion, but I’ll matchmake for your sister another time.’ Albus looked briefly horrified, and Scorpius didn’t stop. ‘So how’s _Eva_.’ 

‘Possibly getting pardoned,’ said Albus, and Scorpius unwittingly followed in Rose’s footsteps by spitting out the last of his drink. 

‘ _Pardoned?_ ’ 

‘Yeah. Something about saving a building of people and spending the last two years fighting the Council means she shouldn’t get locked up for life for deeds committed when she was barely an adult after an upbringing of brainwashing at the hands of Prometheus Thane.’ Albus peered at his glass. ‘Maybe I should stop drinking.’ 

‘Why, because you’re speaking blunt and honest sense instead of trying to be all even-handed and second-guessing? Rock on, Tipsy Albus.’ 

Al sighed. ‘I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do for the law to forgive her. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do for _me_ to forgive her.’ 

‘I hate to break it to you, Al, but _nobody_ knows what’s right and what’s wrong; not once you step outside the obvious, and complicated likes sneaking up on the obvious, too. “Don’t kill,” oh, unless you have no choice, or unless it’s the lesser evil, or sometimes you do it but it’s not _that_ bad…’ Scorpius eyeballed his empty glass, then shook his head. This wasn’t about him. It was about Albus. ‘I believe there’s absolute evil in war. I don’t believe there’s absolute good. And the war’s _over_. Maybe I’m projecting all over Eva, but I think your assessment was right. She deserves a shot at a _real_ life. I’d say she’s earned it, but a shot is something everyone deserves, not something you earn. She never _had_ that.’ 

‘Maybe, but -’ Albus furrowed his brow and swept a hand around the room. ‘You were right, I need to stick by my family. I need to live _my_ life, here, with the people I care about.’ 

‘So?’ 

‘So imagine me bringing Eva to this party.’ 

Scorpius did, and tried to not laugh. Then he failed, and it was a good laugh, a belly laugh echoing from deep inside. It bent him double, made him clutch Albus’ arm to keep standing, and had they not been at a merry wedding he’d probably have gotten a lot more funny looks. 

‘I’m serious!’ Albus said, more embarrassed than indignant. 

‘I know! I’m sorry, it’s not - okay, it _is_ a funny idea, because I just thought of you two dancing. But that’s not what I was laughing at.’ Scorpius planted a hand on the table to right himself, wiped his eyes, and clapped Albus on the shoulder. ‘Congratulations. You’re worrying about normal stuff. What your parents will think, how she’ll do at family occasions - oh!’ He snapped his fingers. ‘It’s my turn to eat all the chocolates.’ 

‘What…’ 

‘When you figure out what kind of chocolates she likes, so you buy loads of those mixed boxes and pick out only the _right_ ones for her. I did that for Rose, and _you_ got to eat the surplus. It’s my turn.’ 

Albus looked nonplussed. ‘That was _three years_ ago -’ 

‘What, I should charge interest? Extra chocolates?’ 

‘Scorpius!’ 

‘Albus!’ Scorpius grabbed his shoulders. ‘You need to focus and listen to me.’ 

‘You diverted completely about chocolates -’ 

‘That’s the _point_. It’s not life and death. War and peace. Right and wrong. It’s just you and a girl, and let me tell you, Al, that is _always_ complicated, too. And sometimes as dangerous as Thornweavers. But a _lot_ more fun.’ He beamed. ‘Maybe you like her and maybe you don’t, but _that_ is the question you should be asking yourself. Do you _want_ a future with her, and what do you want that future to be? Not if it’s _right_. Screw that, the world’s going to mess with that enough, and no, you do _not_ like it easy…’ 

‘Okay, okay. I’ll… think about it. I just wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, I wasn’t _thinking_ about it.’ Albus patted his hands until his frantic grip loosened. ‘South Africa happened, and we both remembered life is too damned short to waste, and we made the most of the time we had. We didn’t _talk_ about what would happen when it was over, if she’d go to prison… any of it. She just makes me feel good about myself, and she’s - we’re -’ He stopped, sighed, and gathered himself. ‘We’re both past needing the other in order to _be_ someone. But we’re still made better by each other. Does that make sense?’ 

Scorpius slouched against the table, looked at the crowd, and thought this would be the perfect time to gaze wistfully at Rose - if he could find her in the sea of red hair. He sighed. ‘Perfect sense.’ 

Albus elbowed him. ‘So. Rose.’ 

‘We’re going to talk.’ 

‘Uh-huh. I’m sure there’ll be _lots_ of talking.’ Albus made a face, and peered into his glass. ‘I can’t believe I just did that to myself.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I take it you still want to know if Goyle sends word?’ 

‘I don’t have ancient ghosts to hunt any more. I might as well hunt my father. If the IMC don’t find him first as the Council collapses.’ Scorpius’ expression pinched. ‘Or Mum.’ 

‘She’s still not resurfaced? I’m sorry I didn’t keep track of her in Nairobi.’ 

‘How were you to know she’d run away, too? She went from respected relief worker to dropping off the face of the world.’ 

‘Do you think something happened to her?’ 

Scorpius frowned. ‘No,’ he said after a moment’s thought. ‘You said Geiger’s interrogation confirmed she wouldn’t have been executed if she’d been captured or handed over? I think she realised the Council wanted her specifically, got spooked, and ran off.’ 

‘I’m sorry, mate. Your family should have been with you in this -’ 

He turned and met Albus’ eye. ‘I want to know what happened to Draco because I need _answers_. But my family? They’re in this room. The ones who’ve been with me all along. The ones I’m figuring out, hey, maybe I should build some bridges there. _That_ _’s_ what matters.’ 

‘I’d drink to that, but you’re out of champagne.’ 

‘I _am_.’ Scorpius punched him in the arm. ‘We’re also in danger of getting sappy. So I’m going to go. Oh, tell the bartender I said you could have a bottle of champagne to take away.’ 

‘To take -’ 

‘For you and Eva.’ 

Albus rolled his eyes. ‘Enjoy your “talk”.’ 

‘You’re only hurting yourself, you know,’ Scorpius said with a wink, and waltzed off into the crowd, wondering if having another drink was going to make navigating a sea of red hair impossible. 

Then a heavy arm fell over his shoulder, and Ron Weasley’s voice rumbled, low and ominous in his ear. ‘A “talk,” huh?’ 

This was, Scorpius thought, perhaps more terrifying than when he’d fallen to his death. ‘Oh, _sweet Merlin_ , how long were you there?’ 

‘Long enough.’ 

Harry appeared the other side of him, rolling his eyes. ‘Ron, leave him alone.’ 

Ron dropped his arm, grinning. ‘You always ruin my fun.’ 

‘I let you chase those Thornweavers over those rooftops in Athens!’ 

‘ _Let_? I was long gone by the time you arrived. You’re just _jealous_ I got the cool parkour chase -’ 

Scorpius looked frantically between the two old friends and tried to not whimper. ‘Do I need to be here for this?’ 

Harry made an exasperated sound, and turned to him. ‘ _I_ came to _thank_ you, Scorpius, and give you my best.’ 

‘And I,’ said Ron, ‘came to scare the shit out of you.’ 

‘Good job,’ Scorpius squeaked. ‘Top marks.’ 

Ron dropped his arm, beaming. ‘We heard how everything with the Chalice went down, and how it _almost_ went down. Harry thought we should be decent about it.’ 

‘Well - I don’t - I mean, it _didn_ _’t_ go down that way -’ 

‘No.’ Ron sobered. ‘And I’m glad.’ He glanced at Harry, who huffed and left, and Scorpius wasn’t sure if he was reassured or not by Rose’s father turning more serious when they were alone. ‘I know better than to interfere with my daughter’s life. She’s proved again and again that she’s capable of making her own decisions. I’m not going to lecture. I’m not going to threaten. I’m just going to _remind_ you of something -’ 

‘Yessir.’ 

‘No, seriously. She’s been through a lot. You know that better than _I_ do, I think. Perhaps I don’t need to tell you to be careful, to tell you to be respectful. Hell, maybe it’s not like that between you two and I’m over-stepping my bounds, but you two are clearly important to each other, and -’ Ron stopped, jaw tightening as he fished for words. ‘She deserves to be happy. And this might be interfering father talking, but she’s been… fragile. For a while. All I’m asking is that you remember this.’ 

‘Sir -’ 

‘Hilarious though it is to be called “sir” by a Malfoy - don’t.’ 

‘Yes -’ Scorpius bit his lip, straightened, and looked Ron in the eye. ‘I worry about her, too. I kept away from her for a lot of reasons, some of them selfish, but some of them were because I didn’t want to hurt her all over again. Her happiness is _still_ my priority.’ 

‘Good.’ Ron clapped him on the shoulder, looking a mixture of relieved and a bit abashed. ‘There’s a reason I like you being around my daughter, Scorpius. You make her _laugh_. That’s what the smart girls need.’ 

‘I like to think so,’ said Scorpius, actually wondering if setting fire to the tent would end this conversation sooner. 

‘I’ll let you go.’ Ron nodded. ‘Just remember: blah blah, cliché threats, blah.’ 

‘Still suitably terrified by “blah”, Mister Weasley.’ 

Another clap on the shoulder. ‘Good man,’ Ron decided, and let him go. 

The only good thing about this conversation was that Scorpius looked sufficiently shell-shocked, as he stumbled away, for his interception by Hugo to include a fresh glass of champagne pressed into his hand. 

‘So, Dad can be a bit intense,’ said Hugo, brown eyes sympathetic. 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius took a huge gulp of champagne. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘No problem.’ Hugo leaned in, dropped his voice, and then those dark eyes weren’t sympathetic but _black_. ‘If you hurt Rose, I will beat you to death with all of my Quidditch Cup trophies. Which I won by demolishing the Slytherin teams. Twice.’ Then he disappeared in the crowd, and Scorpius clutched at his glass and wondered if coming to a Weasley wedding was a terrible mistake. A gulp of champagne only did so much to alleviate this feeling. 

Except when he lowered his drink, the crowds had shifted and Rose was back in front of him, a flustered smile playing at her lips. 

‘If it’s any consolation,’ she said, ‘Hugo’s kind of drunk. Lily was trying to match him drink for drink and now she’s outside vomiting with Roxanne.’ 

Scorpius wondered if Roxanne was helping her or in a similar state, then decided he’d had enough of worrying about the extended Weasley clan. ‘Your _father_ wasn’t drunk, though, and remains a scary Auror man.’ 

‘Yeah, we had a talk. I think he’s guilty about being away the last few weeks.’ She shrugged and padded over. ‘It’s not like I don’t understand duty.’ 

‘And yet -’ Scorpius sipped his champagne, ‘-all of that’s over now.’ 

Her expression flickered before she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘I suppose the question, now, is, “what’s next?”’ 

Scorpius swallowed. ‘That’s a good question.’ The crowd he’d been able to push back by sheer exuberance a while ago now felt close, claustrophobic, like ears were pressed against invisible walls around them. He drained his champagne glass and ditched it on the nearest table. ‘We said we’d talk.’ 

‘We _are_ talking.’ 

‘Nice evasion. That’s usually my trick.’ 

‘I learnt a thing or two the last few years.’ 

‘But not dancing.’ 

Her smile was all silver nerves in the white candlelight. ‘I’m not talking _here_.’ 

‘Well, no, your whole family’s here and it’s your mother’s turn to threaten me next, then there’s a whole _slew_ of cousins and uncles and aunts and so we might be here a _while -_ ’ 

She grabbed his hand and pulled away, leading him through the crowd and towards the edges of the tent. Beyond the tarpaulin was a stretch where the light and warming charms still reached, as far as an invisible line in the grass where the party ended and frosted wilderness began. It was past the line that she stopped, despite the biting cold, and turned to face him in the darkness. 

But Scorpius knew he could map that face in his sleep, shape her from clay if only by memory. Even in the half-light he could see the tilt of her chin, apprehensive but determined, the wrinkle of her nose, thoughtful as her mind worked a hundred miles an hour, the glint in her eye. While he knew there would be, _had_ to be tears still left to shed, guilt to overcome, amends to be made, for the first time in his second life he didn’t feel like he was jumping from moment to moment like crossing a river on lily-pads that could sink any time. Countless moments now tumbled before him. 

And he wasted a good few of them doing nothing more than working his jaw, fishing for words, and settling, eventually, on the succinct, ‘Um. Well.’ 

‘ _Well_.’ 

‘I could -’ He frowned, not at her but at the tent, and drew a slow breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about Paris, or the ritual, or the Chalice, or - or de Sablé.’ 

Rose looked relieved and guilty. ‘Good.’ 

‘Or the war. Or how the Council’s doomed. Or about where Raskoph might be hiding. Or what happens next with the IMC.’ 

‘No, me neither.’ 

‘And I really don’t want to talk about your scarily large and scarily scary family any more.’ 

‘They’ve done _quite_ enough today.’ 

‘So.’ 

‘So.’ Rose wrinkled her nose again. ‘I always make you do these bits. And yet I’m the one who’s had two and a half years just - just _imagining_ this. A part of me still thinks this is the nightmare -’ 

‘Me being back is the _nightmare_?’ 

‘Because then I’d wake up and remember you were gone.’ Her expression fell, not to loss and pain but an earnest honesty. ‘So it’s like there are two halves of me right now. The half from the dreams, who just wants to kiss you and beg you to stay with me forever, come hell or high water. And the other half that says we’ve both changed, the world has changed, and it’s stupid to assume we can pick up where we left off, that things are more complicated. I don’t know if the first half is stupid or seizing the day. I don’t know if the other half is careful or broken.’ 

‘There’s nothing to _lose_ from listening to the careful half,’ said Scorpius, voice low and deliberate, though his pounding heartbeat threatened to drown out all sound. He twisted his grip on her hand, raised it to clasp it in both of his. ‘We’ve got a lot of things to figure out. And we can take it slowly. We don’t want to stumble into anything and we have - we’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?’ She smiled at that, a smile reflected in the shimmering silver light from the tent, and he drew a deep breath. ‘So, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’ 

He’d faced hordes of reanimated corpses and troops of dark wizard Nazis, died and come back and defied death again. For Rose, he’d taken risks and bared his heart and locked himself away. He’d even been intimidated by her father five minutes ago. But standing there watching her, the seconds waiting for an answer felt like hours and this, perhaps, was the most scared he’d ever been. 

Rose bit her lip. ‘You know, you never actually asked me out before.’ 

‘I _took_ you out.’ 

‘That’s not the same. We just sort of stumbled into a relationship with ill-timed kissing and heartfelt declarations at bedsides.’ 

His jaw tightened. ‘Then I’ll do it super right and by the book this time, but you really _need_ to answer before I pass out -’ 

Her giggle was like it spilt out, unbidden. ‘Yes, Scorpius, I’d like to have dinner with you.’ 

_‘Good_ ,’ he said before he could stop himself, but then he was beaming and so was she, and any light from the tent or skies was nothing compared to her face brightening. There was no more guilt, too much brightness for the shadow of de Sablé to fall far. The party had faded away, the winter’s chill had faded away, and he was as adrift as he’d ever been in the oceans of feeling in the Otherworld - except he had her, her he could pull closer, her he could wrap his arms around as an anchor. ‘But you’re right, I’ve been doing things _wrong_ …’ 

Her finger raised to his lips was gentle, and almost enough to cut him off. ‘Scorpius…’ 

‘I’ve been _trying_ to be responsible, trying to fight back against the Council, trying to find answers.’ His forehead rested against hers, voice low, throaty, desperate, and would have been too quiet to hear had they not been so near their breath mingled. ‘I’ve been trying to right my wrongs. I’ve been trying to avoid pain for myself, I’ve been trying to avoid pain for _you_ -’ 

She leaned up, brushed her nose against his. ‘It’s _over_ , you don’t need to justify yourself -’ 

But he bowed his head as hers tilted up, and though it was only the gentlest brush of his lips against hers, a whisper of a touch was enough to stop any more whispers of words. Her hand at his cheek tensed, though, and he stopped, chest heaving. 

‘…I have _not_ been kissing you,’ he decided, because this was probably the most important and the _worst_ self-imposed duty. ‘I have not been kissing you every time I’ve seen you, every time you’ve had a brilliant idea, every time you’ve touched this bloody springy lock of hair -’ This he reached for, wound around his finger, and was rewarded with a quavering curl of her lips. ‘I have been not kissing you at every success, or kissing away every failure. I have been _not_ kissing you every time I wanted to, which, at least, is like the old days because then I’d never be _done_ kissing you…’ 

And then it was her turn to interrupt, to tug him down, and there was nothing gentle in the next kiss. He stumbled as his composure cracked, bringing them both past that invisible line, out of the frozen dark and back into the light and the warmth. It was perhaps surprise that parted her lips under his, but need that stopped either from pulling back, need that made the embrace fiercer than the winter, than the cold, than sense - 

When Rose broke the kiss, it was only so she could murmur, voice like she’d run a marathon, ‘Forget _everything_ I said -’ 

‘You say a lot,’ Scorpius rumbled, kissing the corner of her mouth, hands burying in her hair. 

‘…about being careful - I don’t care, I don’t _care_ \- I’m sick of being broken, I’m sick of us both punishing ourselves -’ 

His eyes had to flash open at that, their gazes locking, and he knew, he _knew_ what she was admitting. Fear shone through her burning need, fear that he’d push her away and back into the frozen dark, disgusted and betrayed. But that would cast them both away and it was far, far better to claw and stumble through the warm light of absolution together. 

Scorpius kissed her again, soft and careful and lingering, and felt the shuddering tension flow from her. ‘Then we absolutely,’ he murmured, ‘one hundred per cent, have to get away from this party.’ 


	47. Walked With Dreams and Darkness

Eva sat at the open window, feet dangling free in the cold air, and smoked a cigarette like a teenager trying to hide the smell. She wasn’t sure why; of all the things anyone visiting might pass judgement on, this would be far down the list. Perhaps she didn’t want the scent to linger, not because she disliked it but because she disliked what it represented. Tension. Escapism. Weakness. She rarely drank at the best of times, and these were not the best of times. Drinking might make her feel better, but Eva valued her self-control too much to sacrifice it at the bottom of a bottle. So she’d rooted through her bag for the things she’d packed for South Africa and came out with cigarettes. 

The night air was freezing, a slashing reminder of stark reality that denied her any comfortable haze of obliviousness. But each drag of the cigarette worked on a microbe of tension at her shoulders, and while she suspected she’d have to smoke a tobacconist’s dry to truly unwind, it was a start. Such that when there was a knock at the door, she’d drifted away enough from her worries to be startled almost off the windowsill. But the interruption did not end in a plummet to her untimely death, and with renewed anxiety she turned to the door. 

‘Come in.’ Only the good people of the incorruptible and pure IMC knew where she lived, so she kept her wand out of sight as she made ready for an ambush. She wouldn’t be immediately spotted in the window, but she had a good angle on the doorway and could - 

‘You’re smoking?’ demanded Albus the moment he burst in, suddenly transformed into his mother’s son. 

‘You’re _here_?’ 

‘You’re _smoking_?’ 

Eva stubbed her cigarette out on the windowsill and swung her legs inside. ‘You’ve been at a wedding. I’m sure there were free drinks. Don’t judge me.’ 

‘There _were_ free drinks.’ He was still in his dress robes, blacks and emeralds and perfect tailoring from narrow waist to broad shoulders to a high collar he’d loosened. He lifted a bottle of champagne. ‘Scorpius told me to bring this.’ 

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Of course he did. How is he?’ Focusing on Scorpius Malfoy and his nine lives seemed safer than asking why Al was here. 

‘Happier. Settling.’ Al put the bottle on the coffee table, then looked around. ‘Do you have glasses?’ 

‘Yes. The DMLE made sure my safe house, with its crusty furniture, threadbare curtains, and bed with squeaky springs, was equipped with champagne flutes.’ 

He grinned and sauntered for the kitchen. ‘The bed _does_ have squeaky springs.’ 

She slid off the ledge. ‘Al…’ 

‘I have seen my as-good-as big brother get married to my cousin - that’s not as weird as it sounds. I have seen my father and uncle come back from war, I have seen my best friend and my dearest cousin reunited and - well, they’re doing whatever they do.’ He clattered as he hunted through kitchen cabinets. ‘It’s been a lovely day. People are happy, celebrating. The war’s over, or it’s over in lots of places and the IMC is ending it everywhere else. We don’t have to live under a shadow; we can look to the future. And that’s what I did, all day, with my family. So now I’m here. Ah-ha!’ 

She squinted as he emerged, triumphant, with a pair of chipped mugs. ‘You didn’t need to leave them and rush here -’ 

‘The party’s winding down; I’ve not _rushed_ off anywhere.’ He set the mugs on the table and picked up the bottle. 

‘Yes, but you’ve not - we were going to _think_ -’ 

Albus frowned. ‘We were.’ Then he twisted the cork off with a _pop_ that made her jump. The cigarette had not been that much help after all. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘Al, I dropped a bombshell on you this morning, and now you’re _here_ …’ 

‘I am.’ He smiled a smile that softened all the sharp edges his face had grown the past two years, a smile that eased the tension worming away in her. ‘This afternoon you told me that maybe you would get pardoned. Which means you and I aren’t just killing time until your sentencing, which means we can actually ask the big questions, think about the big things. Which means we, like my family’s been doing today, can look to the future.’ He started to pour. ‘I’ve just shown up at your door with a bottle of champagne. What do _you_ think I’m thinking?’ 

‘I don’t - I wouldn’t presume -’ 

‘Eva.’ Albus padded over with the drinks. ‘I didn’t kiss you in Nairobi just because I’d had a near-death experience. I didn’t come to you when I thought Scorpius would die because you were cut off from the world. I sure as hell haven’t kept coming back here the last few days because you’re a bit of _fun_ I’ve been _using_ before you got locked up again. We haven’t talked about the future because we didn’t think there was one. I didn’t _think_ about a future because I didn’t want to think of it ending.’ He extended a mug. ‘I still don’t want to think of it ending.’ 

‘You can’t be asking for that,’ she blurted, but she was too numb to not accept the mug. ‘You can’t be asking for a future with me.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

‘Because I’m a killer and a thug and this pardon is just _politics_ -’ 

‘Perhaps. But you weren’t pardoned when _I_ forgave you. This has changed my hopes, not my feelings. And we’ve not talked about _those_ , much, have we?’ His frown turned thoughtful. ‘Do you know _why_ I kissed you in Nairobi? Ran to you after? Why I kept coming back? Why I’m _here_ -’ 

The moment was tumbling into perfection and so Eva cringed back, because she’d never known that to be anything but a trap. Even at its best, it was joy with a darkness at the end of the tunnel. Right now, she couldn’t see the hook, the pain, so it wasn’t in her nature to do anything but pull away, _run_ , because the fall had to be _somewhere._ She spun, but the only place to flee to was the window. Hiding her face from him as she slammed the mug of champagne down, braced on the windowsill, would have to do. ‘Albus, don’t -’ 

‘I love you,’ he said, and the words stabbed through her like blades of crystal, pure and perfect and searing. ‘I have loved you for a long, _long_ time, because I remember what I saw in you before and I know what I see in you now, and they are the _same_. You are forceful and honest - yes, _honest_ \- and you rise above yourself and the darkness and the _world_ better than any of us.’ Then he was by her side, and though he reached out, he didn’t touch her, let his hand hover inches away. That alone, that urging without pushing, had her turning to face him, even if she could only stare at his shoulder. ‘And you make _me_ better. When I was at my worst, my darkest, everyone else wanted me to be the old Albus. They wanted me to go backwards. You - you understood I had to go out the other side. Rise above.’ 

For the first time, Eva was relieved she’d cried at Judge Roux. It meant she was too exhausted for another outburst, and one was quite enough for this lifetime. ‘At best, that was me being selfish, because the _old_ Al, the schoolboy, wouldn’t see anything in me -’ 

‘Like hell; it was _impossible_ to go back, but you showed me a way forwards-’ 

At last her eyes snapped up to meet his. ‘And you have to _keep_ going forwards. The war’s over. Scorpius is alive. That means you get a life. A _normal_ life. Jobs, friends, families - what the _hell_ can I bring to that?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said Albus, green-eyed gaze infuriatingly calm and honest. ‘But I want to find out.’ 

‘Al -’ 

‘Do you think I’ll _have_ a normal life? Do you think I’ll _want_ a normal life?’ He stepped closer, brow furrowing. ‘I want peace, yes, but that’s not the same. Putting the war behind me doesn’t mean forgetting it. I can’t forget it. It’s marked me. It _will_ mark my life. And I know what you’re really asking, and _no_ , I don’t want a “normal” partner, I want someone who understands what I’ve been through, who’s _shared_ what I’ve been through. Who knows me at my worst, and didn’t give up on me. You might think this is a pie-in-the-sky dream, Eva, but you’re wrong. _Forgetting_ you, forgetting what we’ve been through, running back to normality - _that_ _’s_ a dream.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘And not a very good one.’ 

She had to drop her gaze again, grip on her mug knuckle-white. ‘I didn’t do any of this expecting something in return,’ she mumbled. 

‘I didn’t think that.’ His voice softened. ‘What did you want? No - what _do_ you want?’ 

‘I don’t -’ Eva’s throat tightened. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever been asked that question.’ 

His half-smile was gentle. ‘Then I’m asking it now.’ 

‘I want - I want…’ Her breath caught, expression folding up. ‘I don’t want to lie awake hating myself, but I don’t want to forget, either. I don’t want to feel guilty every time I’m anything but miserable, but I don’t want to be miserable forever. I don’t want to go to prison for the rest of my life, but I know I deserve - I deserve it…’ It took effort to lift her eyes, rake them over his honest face, piercing gaze that by now could rip apart any masks. ‘The only thing I’ve wanted, my whole life, was to be safe. And for a long time, I thought I was made safe through power. And then wielding that power against others. If I was strong, I was safe. I stayed strong by beating others down. By staying under the protection of those stronger than me. For a while, that’s what you were: someone stronger who could keep me safe.’ She had to close her eyes now, slam back the swell of guilt and grief and joy. ‘Then you made me want to be free. Then you made me happy, and you made me not hate myself, but you never stopped making me feel… safe. But that’s not really an answer, is it?’ 

When she opened her eyes, he was wearing that small, reassuring smile that was so self-conscious she fancied she hadn’t seen him turn it on others. ‘I don’t know. Does it answer it for you?’ 

Eva swallowed hard. ‘Everything else in my life that was safe was wrong, or an illusion, or a lie. I want something real. My whole life, you have been the only thing that’s real.’ 

Al’s face slumped, but the pain in his eyes was bittersweet and drowned quickly under the rush of hope. He lifted his drink, and all she could do was match him so they clinked chipped mugs of champagne. ‘I brought this so we could have a toast to the future. Maybe, instead, we should toast what’s real.’ 

Eva rarely drank. But these were, perhaps, the best of times, and the bubbly champagne, even drunk from a mug, was the best thing she’d ever tasted. But still she had to swallow bitter apprehension, too. ‘You know that it’s not carved in stone; the hearing might go awry -’ 

‘And we’ll deal with that when it happens and we won’t feel _guilty_ for fighting for a _future_ \- Eva -’ His hand rose to her chin, thumb gentle against the scar at her jaw. Any time Prometheus had done that, it was a subtle reminder of her flaws and weaknesses and how they made her his. Albus’ touch was the opposite; a soothing of pain, an acceptance of fault, a protection against vulnerability. 

Though it still made her his, and she felt the tension flow from her as he leaned in, nose brushing against hers. He was so close and so perfect she couldn’t bring herself to reach for him, as if acceptance would break the moment and show it for the trick her bones still shuddered in fear of. ‘This is real,’ he breathed. ‘This is happening, we will _make_ it happen. I want you; I want you in my life and I want you in my future and I don’t know how it’ll work, either, but I know I want to find out. Figure it out. With _you_. This is real.’ 

Their kisses before had been wild, impulsive, hungry; one or both of them forever in defiance of the world and their better judgement but overridden by sheer need. This was just a tease of his lips against hers, a lingering, feather-light touch that still somehow reached deeper, plumbed through the depths of her and brought everything churning to the surface. Every doubt, every pain, every thought and feeling she’d shoved into dark corners brought squirming up into the light, his blazing light. 

The chipped mug shattered when she dropped it, melted into his embrace in utter surrender, but its sound - nor the sound of Albus’, soon to join it - couldn’t break the moment. His arms wrapped around her, her mouth helpless under his, but this was not the hungry fire of the past, this was not the blazing desperation to smother all other feeling. 

It was, in every way, absolution.

* * 

Apparition when you couldn’t keep your hands off each other was difficult. But it was faster than stumbling through Scorpius’ hotel room, because walking in a tumbled embrace meant a lot of tripping and a lot of pauses on the way to the bedroom. 

The rest was like a dream in itself. A sometimes fumbling, awkward dream, where a clasp on her dress outwitted him for a good thirty seconds, and his dress robes seemed made of endless layers, and by the time they’d fallen into the bed they were giggling too much for the moment to be the perfect passion and intensity of her frenzied daydreams. 

It ended up perfect because it wasn’t the dream. Perfect because the winter wind howled outside like a herald of the waning war, but it could not reach them here any more than the war itself. Perfect because when the haze faded, when her head stopped spinning, she didn’t feel like a liar and a traitor. Perfect because the fire could be stoked to keep the room warm once they cooled down, and yet still she could lie in bed, curl up against him, and still have Scorpius wrap his arms around her. 

‘Tell me I’m not dreaming,’ was the first thing she said once she _could_ speak again, her voice low and throaty as if to talk louder would shatter the illusion and she’d be alone in the dark again. 

He shifted beside her, made a low mumble in her hair. ‘Of _course_ you’re not dreaming -’ 

‘That I won’t wake up and be alone in this world again -’ 

‘Rose.’ He pulled her to face him. Fingers traced across her jaw like he had to confirm it for himself, but then his hand slid to her arm, down to her hip, and it was like being grounded, if he were the ground. ‘I’m here. You’re not dreaming.’ 

She had to kiss him, a lazy, languid kiss. ‘I’m not dreaming.’ 

‘And tomorrow we can do _whatever_ we want.’ His smile was like a lick of the fire with its warmth. ‘Even the fancy dinner if you still want.’ 

‘I think leaving this hotel room is going to be a challenge.’ 

‘We don’t have to. We could stay here. I pay enough for room service.’ 

She sighed. ‘And the real world will come soon.’ 

‘Hey. It’s _over_.’ His fingers trailed across bare skin, and she shivered not because it was cold. ‘I still need to find Draco, there are still answers, but that’s - that’s loose ends. We can do _anything_.’ 

Mollified, she flopped onto her back, let the room spin around her pleasantly. ‘I’m going to need a _job_.’ 

‘I hear they’re good for you. _I_ _’m_ going to need somewhere to live that isn’t a hotel room.’ 

She glanced over. ‘You don’t want Malfoy Manor?’ 

Scorpius shook his head. The firelight flickered across his silhouette - that straight nose, sharp jaw, but in the exhausted, contented haze, with his hair flopping into his face, he seemed softer. Younger. But, then, they were young, weren’t they? ‘I’m beginning to understand why my father has been so obsessed with the family legacy. If you keep the family alive, the name alive and important, then it’s like making sure the people who came _before_ matter, are remembered. And that is important. But it’s important because of people like Cassian. The ones who get forgotten and overlooked, not the ones who fought on the wrong side in every war. He can’t have been the only one.’ 

She kissed his cheek. ‘He wasn’t.’ 

His smile flickered, not ungratefully. ‘There had to be others, too. And I’d like to find them. But for _them_ , I’d like to make the name Malfoy _mean_ something else. And I can’t do that with the Manor.’ 

Rose frowned, resting her chin on his shoulder. ‘Getting rid of Malfoy Manor won’t wipe the slate clean. There’s _good_ there, too. You grew up there. So did Cassian.’ 

‘Yeah, but -’ He glanced at her. ‘Do _you_ want to live there?’ 

Her breath caught. ‘I don’t - I never thought about it.’ 

‘Do you fancy your parents popping over to the house they were once imprisoned in?’ Scorpius’ gaze flickered. ‘The good bits of Malfoy Manor mean something to people long gone. The bad bits mean something to people still _here_.’ 

She said nothing for a long moment, wondering if he’d brought up her parents as a mere example or if her and her family’s comfort was a concrete reason for Malfoy Manor to never open its doors again. ‘You’ve got time to make these decisions,’ she said at last, instead. 

‘Yeah.’ His lips curled, slow but pleased. ‘Yeah, we do.’ 

Once, it would have driven Rose crazy for the conversation and night to drift off on such ambiguity. But falling asleep next to Scorpius Malfoy with a huge question mark next to their future together proved easier than any sleep she’d had in the two years of her future being a black pit. 

Waking up was less pleasant. The sun was bright and crawling through the windows, as they’d not stopped to close the curtains, so light spilt across the bed and roused her with the languid dawn. That she’d not had many hours of sleep was not the problem, however. The problem was that she was alone in bed. 

It was the same feeling she’d had on the train to Niemandhorn, the same jolt upright with blind terror that it had all been a dream, like it had been a dream so many times before - that he wasn’t back at all, or that she hadn’t done it right down in the catacombs, that she hadn’t sacrificed - 

‘ _You_ _’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs…’_

The sound of clattering from the main room reached her almost as soon as Scorpius’ warbling did, and she collapsed back on the bed and tried to slow her breathing. 

‘ _I look around me and I see it isn_ _’t so…’_   
  
She took her time crawling out of bed, and helped herself to a hotel dressing gown. When she emerged, he was stood before the cantankerous coffee machine, hammering the top of it and still, despite his usual lack of success, bouncing from foot to foot as he sang. At the sound of her he spun, bounded across the room, and grabbed her by the wrist to tug her back into his arms as he had when they were dancing. ‘ _Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs_ \- I can’t make the coffee machine work.’ 

He looked so crestfallen and delighted at once that she had to laugh. ‘Room service?’ 

‘They ran out of the _fancy_ coffee yesterday. It was pretty horrifying.’ He spun her, let her go, then headed for the bedroom. ‘I’ll do a run down the shops, bring back fresh coffee and fresh pastries?’ 

‘I don’t mind sub-par tea and coffee -’ 

‘ _I_ mind.’ Scorpius paused in the doorway to beam at her. ‘Nothing but the best. Besides, I’m going to need to bring you clothes, too.’ 

Rose looked past him at the crumpled bundle on the floor that was her dress. ‘That’s… going to be an awkward walk of shame otherwise.’ It was already going to be pretty bad, considering she hadn’t warned her parents she wouldn’t be coming home. Not that they would be _angry_ , but she’d left them to presume she was off falling into bed with Scorpius Malfoy. Then again, the alternative would have been to all but tell them, and that wasn’t much better. ‘Alright. Go fetch food and clothes.’ 

‘I will be sure to guess wildly at your size and pick horrendous colours.’ He returned soon after, dressed, and kissed her on the cheek before leaving. His every step was still a bounce, and she couldn’t help but beam in his wake. 

And then, because she was a contrary soul, really, she headed for the coffee machine and tried to make it work. 

It was just spurting out a rather vile-smelling espresso when there was a knock at the door, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Scorpius hadn’t been gone long enough, so she checked the peephole before opening and greeted Matt with a highly confused and rather bashful, ‘Good morning?’ 

He looked a state. His clothes were rumpled, his hair wild, and his prosthetic wasn’t even on, arm ending in a cuff and nothingness that still made her heart stop. ‘You’re here. Good. Thought you might be,’ he said in a low, clipped voice and, without waiting, pushed past her to stumble inside. ‘It’s you I wanted to see, actually…’ 

Rose shut the door and pulled the dressing gown tighter, keenly aware she’d just let her ex-boyfriend into the hotel room where she’d spent the night with her returned-from-the-dead-love-of-her-life. _Awkward_ didn’t really cover it. ‘You found me.’ 

‘Yeah, you didn’t waste time.’ Matt waved his good hand, lip curling. 

‘ _Matt_.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘If you’ve - if something’s wrong, then I will listen, but I’m really not in the mood for you to have some weird back-slide and come and grump here and now - we’re _over_ -’ 

‘I know that!’ He laughed a short, humourless laugh. ‘This is _not_ about us. I moved on _first_ , remember?’ 

‘It’s not a _competition_ -’ 

‘Where’s Scorpius?’ Matt looked around the room. ‘Never mind. Best he stays out of this.’ 

‘Stays out of _what_? You look a _mess_ , Matt, what’s going on?’ 

Now he rounded on her, grey eyes flashing. ‘What’s _wrong_ is that I have spent the past four days trying to work out what happened. What mistake we made. Combing over every inch of that ritual, of the destruction of the Chalice, to try to figure out _how the hell_ we wound up with Scorpius alive and Reynald de Sablé dead. I would have thought _you_ _’d_ be more curious, too -’ 

Her chest tightened. ‘Matt -’ 

‘And I could forgive some mixed feelings. I mean, if you screwed it up and things accidentally went this way, I’d understand you not being _too_ cut up. But I know you, Rose. If you make mistakes, you don’t let them go. You _certainly_ don’t shrug your shoulders and move on after a mistake of this magnitude -’ 

‘I am _not_ shrugging my shoulders and moving on -’ 

‘I should have seen you in my warehouse with a _whole new_ wall of crazy, trying to figure out how you miscalculated, because you would _never_ leave an accident like that unsolved!’ Matt barked, straightening. ‘So I knew - I knew before I even _started_ untangling your work - where this would end up, I knew in my _gut_ what had happened, probably the _moment_ I saw de Sablé dead and Scorpius alive! But I didn’t trust my gut! Because I believed you would _never do that_!’ 

Rose had to fight to keep steady as she drew a long, slow breath. ‘Matt. I made a _mistake_ -’ 

‘ _Bullshit_!’ Matt reached into his jacket and pulled out a fistful of papers. ‘You _murdered_ Reynald de Sablé! The ritual destroyed the Chalice like we planned, yes, but it did more than that! You didn’t need him there to balance anything out, there was _no_ risk of magical backlash! You needed him there so you could rip the life-sustaining magics _out_ of him, _corrupt_ them with his death, and then place them - ageless energies of life and death - in Scorpius! A new anchor!’ 

It was like she’d been punched in the gut. ‘Matt -’ 

‘Don’t deny it Rose - just _don_ _’t_.’ He hurled the papers to the floor. ‘You murdered him.’ 

And then her gut tightened to a fist. ‘I _saved_ Scorpius -’ 

‘By murdering someone else -’ 

‘What was the alternative, Matt?’ Anger fizzed through her veins, enough to take her legs out as much as strengthen, but she gritted her teeth and stepped closer. ‘That _we_ murdered Scorpius!’ 

Matt rocked back. ‘That wasn’t murder. He _agreed_ to it; de Sablé didn’t agree to anything -’ 

‘Scorpius didn’t have a choice! Not really!’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Either he died to save _the world_ or he refused, and dozens, _hundreds_ of people would be killed by the Council. The war would still be going. Don’t you _dare_ say that Scorpius had a choice! He was going to be murdered, and because it was an untenable situation, we _all went along with it_!’ 

‘I’m not pretending that’s right. But that doesn’t justify lying to us, manipulating de Sablé, _using_ him and killing him!’ 

‘We were going to use and kill Scorpius. But you’re right, I did lie to you. Because I knew this would happen, because the moment we were choosing who lived and who died, then _you_ _’d_ realise what we were doing was impossible and monstrous and you’d do _nothing_!’ 

‘How…’ Matt stared at her, and as the anger faded from him it looked like it had hollowed him out. ‘You’re not _sorry_? You kill de Sablé and then days later you’re jumping back into bed with -’ 

Rose stepped in, heart thudding in her chest, ears ringing. ‘ _Sorry_ doesn’t - you think I’m not -’ It took her a moment to tackle her indignation so she could manage coherence instead of spitting rage. ‘I am going to have to live with this, Matt. And it is going to rip me apart every day, even if, yes, even if I _dare_ let myself be happy. But the difference between this and killing Scorpius? I _can_ live with this. However much it hurts, whatever it does to me, however much it dooms me, _yes_ , I can live with this! Just like you made a calculation and accepted killing Scorpius, I made a calculation and accepted killing de Sablé.’ 

Matt raised his hand to his temples, reeling. ‘I accepted the situation ahead of me and did the best I could for the most people. I didn’t judge who gets to live and who gets to die, who deserves it, play _favourites_ with people’s lives. Because that’s what you did! The person loved most gets the life, the other person doesn’t, you don’t _see_ how that’s monstrous?’ 

‘I see it,’ she said, voice shuddering. ‘But you are delusional if you don’t think _everything_ was monstrous.’ 

‘I think,’ he said, looking her in the eye, ‘that there are degrees, and that _matters_. And I cannot accept manipulating and _exploiting_ circumstances like this, judging and _deciding_ like this.’ 

‘Then your feelings,’ said Rose, swallowing bile, ‘are just something else I’m going to have to live with.’ 

He gaped at her for a moment, then took a step back. ‘No, you’re not. We’re done, Rose. In _everything_. You and me - I don’t want anything to do with you, not _ever_ again.’ 

And Rose did nothing as the man who’d once loved her so much he’d lifted her whole world stalked out in utter disgust. For a long time she stood and stared, felt the shuddering inside her as raging anger and biting guilt continued their war, the war that had broken out since she’d had even this germ of an idea, and she knew they were never going to be done battling. That wasn’t the question. The question was if they would hollow her out in the fighting. 

Then she picked up the papers Matt had brought, with all their blazing work and blazing truth, and took them to the fireplace to reduce them to nothing but ash.

* * 

‘I won’t be sorry,’ said Selena, picking her way between heavy cardboard boxes, ‘if I never see this place again.’ 

Nejem picked up a fresh stack of papers. ‘It’s _abhorrent_. I miss proper offices with proper walls and chairs that aren’t little filing cabinets.’ 

‘Wasn’t your last job for Gringotts spent in deserts and tents?’ 

‘I missed proper offices then, too.’ He sniffed and straightened. ‘I’m on the team that discovered Cantref Gwaelod and destroyed the Chalice of Emrys. Employers will be knocking down my door. Gringotts will have to give me my _pick_ of assignments to keep me.’ 

‘So you get to choose something exciting?’ 

‘I get to pick a _desk job_.’ Nejem’s eyes gleamed. ‘Where I can analyse what _other_ wizards found while _they_ crawled around in the dirt.’ 

Selena looked the fussy little research assistant up and down, and sighed. ‘You’re not a very exciting man, are you?’ 

‘You know how many times I almost died in Egypt? I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of excitement.’ 

_And I bet your near-death experiences didn_ _’t even enter double digits._ But Selena knew better than to compare damage, so she smiled and patted him on the arm. ‘Good luck.’ 

She wasn’t here for herself. The warehouse had been a place to visit on sufferance, but she knew the take-down would be long and complicated, and she’d barely seen Matt since Paris. He’d absconded with de Sablé’s body back to this place and buried himself in all their ritual notes and records, searching for answers as if it would undo what had been done. But enough was enough, and now she had to drag him from his cave one last time. 

He was, as she’d expected, in his office. As she hadn’t expected, most of it was packed away, but she was unsurprised to see the huge corkboard still up on the wall and still adorned with scribbled notes and scrawled diagrams and photos. And him, of course, stood in front of it, tapping his wand against his chin. His shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and he hadn’t put on his prosthetic, which she’d found he was doing more and more in public if he didn’t _have_ to use his hand. 

Selena wasn’t sure if this was acceptance of what had happened, or some bitter rejection of a mockery of a real limb, and she knew she wasn’t equipped to handle these kinds of questions. So she simply shut the door behind her loud enough to get his attention. ‘When this is over,’ she said, voice low, wry, ‘I’m cutting you off from walls of crazy.’ 

Matt jumped and spun, startled, hair a messier mop even than usual. ‘Oh, you’re - how long was I here?’ 

‘Today? This week? _Ever_? It’s over, Matt. I can’t drag you from the darkness every day.’ 

He looked back at the board and sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m not even -’ He paused and shook his head. ‘You’re right.’ 

Selena frowned as he tucked his wand away and began plucking papers off the board. ‘What? Just like that?’ 

‘You wanted me to fight you?’ 

‘I expected it. I thought you’d need to explain what happened to de Sablé…’ Her throat tightened, but she fought to keep her expression level. 

He paused, back still to her, hand braced on the corkboard, and neither of them said anything for a while. Even if he hadn’t so much as looked at her poker face, she realised he could see right through her. ‘I was hoping I was wrong.’ 

She wasn’t about to give in, though. ‘Sometimes things happen in magic -’ 

‘Can we not?’ Matt turned, but his gaze was pained, not angry. ‘We both know what happened. I only _did_ this because I didn’t want to believe it. But I ran through every possibility, retraced all our footsteps, and if that’s not enough -’ 

‘We can’t know how the Chalice of Emrys interacted with someone like de Sablé, he was _infused_ with it -’ 

‘I confronted Rose. This morning.’ He slumped. ‘She admitted it.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

‘Yeah. _Oh_.’ His lips thinned. ‘I see you’re not surprised. Or angry. Or indignant.’ 

Selena shifted her weight. ‘Should I be?’ 

His eyes flashed. ‘She _murdered_ -’ 

‘I was there, Matt, I know _exactly_ what she did, and I dare say I understand _why_ she did it better than you.’ She lifted a placating hand. ‘Do I think she was wrong? I absolutely do. Am I outraged? I am not. Because…’ She drew a sharp breath. ‘I’d have probably done the same thing in her shoes.’ 

Matt snatched parchment and pictures off the corkboard like an angry gardener attacking weeds. ‘Love,’ he snarled, ‘doesn’t justify murder.’ 

‘I said I’m not condemning her. That doesn’t mean I’m defending her.’ 

‘It’s not okay!’ He spun, expression twisted. ‘It’s not okay to harm someone else just to keep _ourselves_ okay! That’s exactly how evil’s born in the world! We don’t protect ourselves and our loved ones at the expense of others, at the expense of those we think _nobody will miss_!’ He waved a fistful of papers at the door. ‘She picked de Sablé because he suited her purposes, but you know as well as I do how she’ll have justified it! That he had no family, no friends, no loved ones! So that makes it alright for _him_ to die while the rich, popular pure-blood lives!’ 

‘You’re spinning this _way_ more cynically than it -’ 

‘ _Am_ I? Or are you saying Rose would have killed a beloved family man to save Scorpius, too; _great_ defence -’ 

‘I don’t know! I’m not Rose! I’m _not defending her_!’ Selena stalked forward to snatch the papers from his hand. ‘Am I happy Scorpius is alive? Yes. I think he deserves a break. Am I happy Rose isn’t heartbroken again? _Yes_. She _also_ deserves a break. Did I like de Sablé? I did. Am I going to mourn him? Only a little! But I _know_ that what I _feel_ isn’t the same thing as right and wrong, I’m not a _monster_! And neither’s she.’ They both slumped, realising as one that their fury and frustration was for the rest of the world, not this little room. ‘We’re just fucked up people doing what we can to survive.’ 

Matt bowed his head. ‘These are all arguments people use to justify their evil.’ 

Selena sighed. ‘I know. And it’s good that you care, it’s _right_ that you care.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going to tell anyone?’ 

He gave a low, forlorn, empty laugh. ‘What would that help? No. No, I don’t want to have anything to do with Rose ever again, I have no interest in rekindling any friendship, any connection… but my judgement will have to suffice.’ 

She dumped the papers on the table and reached for his hand like he was lost in fog. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but she’ll care. Losing you will _burn_ in her, Matt.’ She let out a slow breath. ‘I’m not telling you to forgive her. I’m not going to pretend I know what anyone _should_ do any more. But I can’t find it in me to condemn anyone. Except, you know. Raskoph. Thane.’ 

Matt rolled his eyes, but his grip on her hand tightened. ‘Who knows? Thane might get pardoned for all the help he gave us, for all his fighting against the Council the last eight months.’ 

‘If Mum doesn’t want to end up in the most petulant of her daughter’s doghouses, she’ll know better.’ But her smile was wry, self-effacing as she looked up. ‘That reminds me. Of, you know, the actual reason I’m here, because I sure as hell didn’t waltz down her to rescue you from your man-pain _yet again_.’ 

‘Is that a subtle message that I should stop wallowing?’ 

‘I thought it was pretty clear. But here’s something else to do.’ Selena fished in her purse for a sealed letter. ‘This is for you, and I don’t at all know what’s in it. Except that I do, and you’re invited to Niemandhorn next week for an awards ceremony.’ 

He needed her help to crack the wax seal. ‘An _awards_ ceremony?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s like you destroyed the Chalice of Emrys and so wiped out Lethe and brought the war to an end, or something, so they want to give you a medal.’ 

His expression turned far more pained than the news deserved. ‘ _I_ didn’t -’ 

‘Yes, yes. Team, etc, etc. But you led the team, Matt. You started this, you drove this, you had the right ideas at the right moments, and there are plenty of Order of Merlins to go around for everyone else, but _someone_ has to be front and centre.’ 

‘Orders.’ 

‘What?’ 

His lips curled, quiet and wry, but pleased. ‘Orders of Merlin. Not Order of Merlins. Because “Order” is the -’ 

‘I don’t care. _Medals_ , Matt. Someone wants to say, “well done, you were the smart guy, you saved the world,” and they want to say it _to_ the whole world, and after all your lamentation of needing to prove yourself, you’ve finally proved yourself and everyone’s going to see, so you’re going to _enjoy_ -’ 

‘Okay! Okay!’ He laughed, tired like he’d run a marathon in his heart, but genuine. ‘Niemandhorn. Public acclaim. I’ll try to enjoy it.’ 

‘Good. Because I’m going with you.’ She gave him an impish smile. ‘I’m the daughter of the leader of the free wizarding world. I think I can wrangle tickets and rooms at Niemandhorn come the End of the World Conference of Important People. So relax. Enjoy it. We deserve this.’ 

Matt bowed his head to give her a brief, gentle kiss. ‘You’re right,’ he sighed. ‘It’s about time people got what they deserved. The good bits.’


	48. Double Life

When it came to people who got only the good bits of what they deserved, Selena didn’t see Rose until the day after. To her enormous astonishment, Scorpius wasn’t at the hotel room when she dropped by and Rose was wearing clothes. 

‘Do you even go home any more?’ was the only greeting Selena gave as she waltzed in. 

‘I -’ Rose only had the gall to look indignant for a heartbeat and then turned bright red. ‘Leave me alone, I’m happy.’ 

‘No, someone has to help you mooch off Scorpius’ room service. Where is he? Or is it Albus’ turn to have him today? Have you guys worked out a time-share schedule?’ 

Rose flapped her hands as Selena slouched onto the sofa. ‘You can’t stop by unannounced and make judging comments about my life any more!’ 

‘Why? What’s changed?’ She waved a languid hand. ‘Unless you know how to make that awful coffee machine work, have some tea and cakes brought up, dear, their scones here are to _die_ for.’ 

As ever, Rose grumbled but did as she was told, and Selena waited until afternoon tea had been brought up by a waiter who looked far less pleased when he realised Scorpius wasn’t there to tip gratuitously. 

‘ _So_.’ Selena decided this was a two-sugars-in-her-tea sort of day. ‘How’re _you_? Do you remember what sunlight looks like? I’m impressed you’re dressed.’ 

‘ _Yes_ , I’m _happy_ ,’ Rose huffed. ‘And _yes_ , I have seen the outside world lately. A bit.’ 

‘Enough to get an overnight bag from home?’ 

Rose stuck her nose in the air. ‘Try an over-three-nights bag.’ Then they burst into giggles more light-hearted than Selena could remember since Methuselah died. ‘How’re you, anyway?’ 

‘Oh, you know. Daughter to an insufferable mother who’s running the world. I’ll mollify her by going to Niemandhorn for all the fuss and bother next week. Maybe it’ll stop her from going on a power-crazed rampage when she realises she has to hand control back to countries. I’m sure she’ll calm down when she gets to retire to the peaceful job of Minister for Magic for Britain.’ 

‘That does seem like a done deal, doesn’t it?’ 

Selena sniffed. ‘She’ll stop being frantic. Eventually. Once she realises the world’s not ending. But I didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries, really. Or to ask how your life is. I can guess. I can paint a blurry watercolour.’ 

Rose coloured again. ‘You’re _not_ here to be sardonic and slightly judging? I’m all ast-’ 

‘I spoke to Matt,’ said Selena, sobering, and leaned forwards. ‘So I came to check in on how you _really_ are.’ 

She froze. ‘What did he say?’ 

‘Nothing I didn’t already know. Nothing I didn’t guess the moment I saw de Sablé dead and Scorpius alive. Does he know?’ 

‘Scorpius?’ Rose dropped her gaze. ‘I haven’t told him. He hasn’t asked.’ 

‘It’s not,’ said Selena, slowly, deliberately, ‘the hardest thing in the world to figure out. Are you going to tell him?’ 

‘Tell him what - tell him I deliberately went against his wishes, tell him I -’ Rose slid back across the sofa, expression closing down. ‘No. No, don’t see what that would help - I know, I know, _honesty_ in relationships, is it really a good idea to go the rest of my life _not saying this_ -’ 

‘Rose, I came here because I figured you _hadn_ _’t_ told him, and Albus would have probably exploded by now if _he_ knew, and I _know_ you and Matt only argued about it. So I came because you have to talk about this with _someone_.’ 

‘Do I? Or can I just forget -’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Selena met her gaze. ‘Can you?’ 

Eye contact lasted only a heartbeat before Rose stared at her hands and wrung them in her lap. ‘I - I did what I had to do,’ she said, voice low, shuddering. ‘I don’t like it and I hate myself for doing it and Matt’s _right_ to hate me, but - but once I had the idea, I couldn’t _not_. Selena, I couldn’t - what was I supposed to do, sit on an answer to everything I ever wanted and watch it sail right past me?’ 

‘Some people would say “yes”.’ Selena set her teacup down and joined her on the sofa, scooting over. ‘I’m not one of those people. Maybe you should tell Scorpius, maybe you shouldn’t; maybe this would be a truth too far, and he’s _not_ an idiot, I bet he knows. And _I_ know you shouldn’t sit on this all alone. So I came here.’ 

Rose collapsed against her at once, clutching her hand and burying her face in her shoulder, and as Selena wrapped an arm around her she had to muse on how some things didn’t change very much, really. ‘I hate that I did it, I hate that I _chose_ to do it, I hate that I can _live_ with it. I hate that I’m someone who can do this. And I hate the ways I _don_ _’t_ hate it…’ 

‘Everything we ever do, we have to live with. We don’t get much of a choice about it.’ Selena rubbed her back. ‘I don’t know what the right thing to do is, but I do know you have to carry on. I also know I refuse to pity you, because you’ve done something horrible to get everything you ever wanted.’ She didn’t let go, though, kept her arm tight around her. ‘But I don’t hate you.’ 

It took a while before Rose had calmed herself and pulled back, wiping her eyes. ‘Matt does. Do you think he’ll ever talk to me again?’ 

‘I think he’ll be civil in order to keep up appearances and for my sake. Do I think he’ll ever forgive you?’ Selena’s expression pinched. ‘You know, normally, I’d have something to say about you being too important to each other to let something get in the way. Even the breakup. But, no.’ She sighed. ‘No, I don’t think he’ll ever get over this. And I’m not going to encourage him to.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Rose’s voice was deep, thick. ‘Yeah, I deserve that.’ 

‘You deserve him being furious with you. You deserve to be punished for what happened to de Sablé. You _also_ deserve to be happy. You _also_ helped destroy the Chalice of Emrys and wipe out the Council of Thorns’ superweapon virus and save hundreds, possibly thousands of lives. Does that balance out? I don’t bloody know.’ Selena patted her hand. ‘And I’m sick of asking these questions. We did it with Eva, and now we’re doing it with you, and we should do it with Scorpius, too, but there _isn_ _’t an answer_. Let’s be honest: you’re not going to prison, you’re not even going to a courtroom. You’re going to live, you’re going to be with Scorpius, you’re going to be free and you’re going to be happy and you’re also going to be guilty. There is no cosmic justice. Just us.’ 

‘Just us. Our own judges, juries, and executioners.’ 

‘Understand this is more about my own morbid curiosity. But what did you actually _do_?’ 

Rose drew back slowly, nose wrinkling. ‘I needed magic like the Chalice’s to anchor Scorpius. Most magic like the Chalice is pure life energies; I needed both life and death. Without the Styx, the only thing in the world like the Chalice was… magic from the Chalice.’ 

‘The magic keeping de Sablé alive.’ 

‘He’s lived for eight hundred years because he drank from the Chalice so many times; it was like his body itself was enchanted. It had to be producing its own life-sustaining energies, or he’d have died when the Chalice went through the Veil. He was, for all intents and purposes, a sort of… miniature, one-man, immortality-granting Chalice of Emrys.’ 

‘So you ripped that magic out of him and plugged it into Scorpius?’ 

Rose flinched. ‘In essence. With the added, uh.’ She shifted her weight. ‘The magics were of life, because they sustained de Sablé. With his death they were… altered.’ 

‘To be both life and death.’ Selena frowned at the table, and understood why Rose was talking about it in such a calm, clinical fashion. It was too ghoulish to get emotional about. And she didn’t want to get emotional about this, because then she was going to have to hurl judgement Rose’s way, and she wasn’t prepared to do that. Selena had never pretended to be the moral core of the group. 

‘Well, it worked,’ she said at length. 

‘Yeah.’ Rose stared at her hands. ‘It worked. He died without the energies. Scorpius is now tethered to life magic inside him. It won’t make him immortal or heal him or anything; it’s just an anchor. When he eventually dies, the magic will disperse, and he… passes over naturally.’ 

Selena sniffed. ‘That’s rather tidy.’ 

‘My work is always tidy.’ Rose’s voice came out detached. 

Selena returned to her own chair with her own tea and began buttering her scone. ‘ _So_. The important question: when’s Scorpius getting his own place?’ 

Rose blinked, bemused at both the question and the change of pace. ‘I suppose he can’t live in a hotel room forever.’ 

‘I mean, he can, he’s pretty rich, and if he moved he’d have to actually _cook_ for himself.’ Selena lounged back, waving a hand in the air. ‘Or you two move in together in the utterly inevitable next step, as you’re not going to live under your _parents_ _’_ roof more -’ 

‘Selena, please stop planning my future. I’ve only had it about two days.’ 

‘I’m not _planning_ , I’m _predicting_ -’ And though Selena could see the shadow of tension in Rose’s eyes, sense the guilt hovering around her, she knew that, ultimately, they could live with it all. They _would_ live with it.

* * 

‘So if I just twist it _here_ -’ Scorpius immediately regretted tampering with the coffee machine when grabbing a pipe made it spout black smoke right in his face, and with a noise of surprise he would definitely _not_ describe as a _squeal_ he reeled back. ‘Fuck! Fuck!’ 

Rose stuck her head out from the bathroom. ‘What, are you okay - oh.’ Concern faded when she realised he was overreacting. ‘Okay. Enough is enough. Don’t _touch_ it, and I’m going to go down and ask the staff to either _fix_ the damn thing or show us how to use it.’ 

Scorpius wiped the coffee staining from his face. The white dressing gown was probably beyond all salvation. ‘I already asked them to.’ 

‘And did they?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘And do you know how to use it?’ 

‘They - a thing got twisted and - I forgot.’ He dropped his hand. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind! Near death! Saving the world!’ 

‘And now it’s time we _live_ in the real world, dear.’ She, unlike him, had actually got dressed this lazy morning in a sea of lazy mornings, so she just kissed him on the newly-wiped cheek and left the suite, abandoning him to perch with the latest _Daily Prophet_ and neither tea nor coffee. 

It was the third morning since the wedding, and some part of Scorpius suspected he was supposed to be making plans. Plans to find somewhere to live, plans for what to do with Malfoy Manor, plans for his _life_ , and it wasn’t just the hazy comfort of spending long days doing absolutely _nothing_ with Rose that was delaying him. 

Though that was nice. He didn’t think they’d _ever_ spent time together like this. Even after Phlegethon, their relationship had been too new and the presence of her or Albus’ parents too looming for them to have more than snatched, awkward moments of finding their feet. Then during the Chalice hunt, they’d been able to scrape the privacy but not the time. 

This was new. Lounging and delighting in each other’s company around the hotel suite, and he’d still taken her out for dinner as promised, hurled money at one of Diagon Alley’s nicer restaurants until they’d jumped him up the waiting list on a table. That had been more familiar, running to money and pomp and circumstance to have fun and please her, though these days he suspected a night on a sofa with processed food snacks would be a delight if they were together. 

But she was not the only delay. The fate of his parents still hung over him, an uncertainty in the midst of the resolutions the defeat of the Council of Thorns promised. 

Which was why the sudden bursting of Eva Saida from his Floo made his heart lunge into his throat more than the intrusion strictly required. ‘Scorpius!’ 

She looked ragged and tired, eyes flashing with an anxiety he hadn’t seen in her before, and even though he knew not to fear for her, he found himself reaching for his wand anyway, as if Hell’s agents might be behind. ‘What’s going on?’ 

Eva stalked across the hotel room, hands on her hips, chest heaving. ‘I just talked to Albus. We’ve got a problem.’ 

‘Goyle’s -’ 

‘It’s not Goyle. It’s worse. It’s _horrible_.’ She stopped, head bowed, catching her breath. ‘I don’t know how to explain it.’ 

Scorpius lifted his hands. If there was a crisis, he thought, he was still in his dressing gown and hadn’t had a morning cup of tea _or_ coffee. ‘Slow down. Start from the beginning.’ 

She nodded, took a moment more, then lifted her head to look him in the eye and said, ‘Al’s invited me to dinner at his grandmother’s tomorrow.’ 

‘ _Shit_.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘ _Shit!_ You said it was _bad_ , but…’ 

‘I know!’ 

It took Scorpius a moment to realise they were both deathly serious. He let out a slow, calming breath. ‘Okay. What if you said you were ill?’ 

‘Albus would see through that - or he’d want to fuss over me, wouldn’t he, and I’d feel guilty for lying -’ 

‘I could hex you.’ 

For a moment, Eva looked tempted. Then she raised a hand. ‘No. That’s mad. I need - I need help to get _through_ this. I came to you because you know the family, you’re good with people, and you…’ 

‘And I’m not about to judge you?’ Scorpius smiled, not unkindly. ‘Look, sit down. Rose is going to be back with coffee, one way or another. Let me get _dressed_ , and we’ll make a plan.’

* * 

‘Everyone’s off to Niemandhorn tomorrow,’ said Albus as he perched on the back of Eva’s sofa. ‘That’s why Gran wants to do it today. Last Sunday was the day after the wedding and everyone will be gone this weekend, so it’s -’ 

‘Belated Sunday lunch.’ Eva frowned at herself in the mirror, more concerned about her appearance than she’d ever been. ‘Why is that a special thing?’ 

‘Because it’s - you do a roast dinner on the Sunday afternoon…’ He sounded nonplussed. 

‘In this case, “you” is “the English”.’ Eva sighed. _Cultural clashes. That_ _’s exactly what I need on top of all of this._ She turned to him. ‘How do I look?’ 

Now he _looked_ nonplussed. ‘Um. Fine? Normal? Why does it -’ 

‘Don’t say it doesn’t matter.’ She tromped towards him, but stopped midway. _Change your gait. Don_ _’t stomp._ ‘You invited me to this, so it obviously _matters_ -’ 

‘It wasn’t my idea, Gran invited us as she’s obviously _heard_ about you, and that’s probably Lily’s fault -’ 

‘Who’s going to be there?’ 

‘Gran. Granddad. Mum. Dad. Ron. Hermione. James.’ 

‘Your brother; oh, good.’ She turned her eyes skyward. 

‘Rose made sure she and Scorpius will be there, so _Scorpius_ has to run the gauntlet, too -’ 

‘Scorpius,’ said Eva delicately, ‘has done this before. The only way I can use him for a distraction or solidarity is to throw him under the bus.’ 

‘And Gran does _love_ Scorpius.’ 

‘Of course she does,’ she muttered. 

‘George and Angelina are going to be there, too -’ 

Eva lifted a hand. ‘Don’t tell me. George is your mother’s brother. He runs that joke shop. Angelina is - what does she work in, broomstick development?’ 

‘Yes!’ Albus beamed. 

Silently, she thanked Scorpius’ exhaustive briefing on the Weasley clan. They hadn’t been sure who was coming, so they’d covered all possibilities. There had been lists. There had been _charts_. ‘Is that all?’ 

‘Try as Gran may, she can’t _easily_ fit more people around the dinner table. That’s for special occasions. But the dinner’s for us and Dad and Ron, and Ron and Mum are closest to George -’ 

_Youngest three siblings, dead twin brother._ ‘No, uh… damn it. What’s their son. Frank?’ 

‘Fred. And no. And Roxanne, Lily and Hugo are still at Hogwarts -’ 

‘Albus, I’m struggling to remember the _relevant_ names. Anyone who’s not going to be there might as well not exist for how little I care. I’ve had assassination missions which needed shorter briefing.’ She paused. ‘That’s the sort of thing I shouldn’t be saying.’ 

He winced. ‘Probably not. But, look, you don’t need to worry.’ He stood and swept over to her, a hand at her arm. ‘Just be yourself.’ 

Eva gave him a flat look. ‘You are very sweet. But we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.’ 

When he Apparated them, he looked at last half as nervous as he should be, and guilt twisted in her gut as she realised he was probably trying to act confident to reassure her. Deep down, she couldn’t blame him for this lunch springing up. It was the alternative to prison; either she’d be locked up forever or she was going to have to face his family eventually, and he probably couldn’t have turned down the invitation on her behalf without making the situation worse. 

It was wrong to say she’d hoped for more time, Eva realised as her scrappy flat rushed away to be replaced by the biting cold of the West Country in December, and the ramshackle sight of the Burrow in all its tumbled glory. She hadn’t hoped for this at all, and that wasn’t nerves speaking, nor was it that she hadn’t _dared_ hope. Of all of the challenges that had forever lain between her and Albus, the normalcy of his life and family had never even been contemplated. It had been too simple with life and death and justice to overcome, and at the same time so alien she didn’t know what she _should_ think. The only _positive_ conclusion Eva could reach was that being nervous about a family dinner at the Burrow stopped her from being nervous about her hearing pardon in a few days at Niemandhorn. That, she thought, seemed downright _easy_ in comparison. 

She was jerked out of her reverie by Albus squeezing her hand, and the reassuring smile he gave let her know he did, actually, understand. ‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘It’ll be fine.’ 

That was the moment she realised she didn’t need to get through this only for her own sake. It did not help her nerves. 

There had been long planning sessions with Scorpius, and then Rose once she’d returned with the solution to the coffee machine; briefings on who was who, preparations for conversation topics, plumbing the depths of all their knowledge and all of her experiences to find something, _anything_ that might make for acceptable discussion over the dinner table. But every jot of it flew from her mind as Albus opened the creaking garden gate and led her down the long, crunching path for the front door. 

It opened before they got there, revealing a short, plump woman, her grey hair streaked with ginger, wearing an apron and a huge smile. ‘ _Albus_.’ 

He hadn’t been here, he’d told Eva, since his moderately disastrous return home, and she could almost feel the nerves rippling off him as he went to his grandmother to be grabbed in a hug so fierce she suspected he couldn’t fight it even if he’d wanted to. This left her stood at the doorstep, wondering what to do with her hands. 

Then Molly Weasley let Albus go and rounded on _her_ , and Eva froze. ‘You must be Eva, dear, it’s _so_ lovely to meet you,’ Molly declared. Then hugged her, too. 

_What. Do I. Do._   
  
A cautious pat on the back was judicious and polite, but it was also the only thing Eva could manage before she was released and they were both ushered into the house. The arrival of December and the end of the war apparently heralded the onslaught of Christmas, decorations dripping from rafters and the swaying tree in the corner, atop which a pair of snowman figurines waltzed together. A gust of false, enchanted snow burst from a shelf to waft atop her, and Eva fought the instinct to Shield herself as if she’d set off a security ward. 

_Start with breathing. That_ _’ll help._   
  
To her intense displeasure, there was no sign of Scorpius and Rose; indeed, they’d beaten everyone there but the hosts and Albus’ immediate family. This went against the plan, but Eva was a professional. No plan survived contact with the enemy. So here she was, operating solo, because Albus was a mission objective to keep happy, not a part of her unit facing down the opposition. 

She turned to Molly Weasley and forced a polite smile - nothing too much, still sincere without being over the top. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’ 

_Great. Good work._   
  
Albus flapped next to her as they joined the foursome already in the Burrow’s sitting room. ‘Eva, this is my grandmother Molly, my grandfather Arthur; you know my parents, and this is my brother, James -’ 

James Potter was a tall man who looked like he thought this would be intimidating when he crossed the room to stand too close. ‘And you’re Eva. We’ve heard so much about you.’ 

Disapproval rolled off every syllable, and somehow Eva found this less stressful. She met his hostile gaze and shook his hand and let a flick of tension enter her smile. ‘Likewise.’ 

That _did_ stop him short, and he threw Albus a suspicious glance before he stepped back. Albus, of course, had told her nothing. Scorpius had relayed the tales, with updates from Rose: the wild child, the one the tabloids loved, forced to grow up and become responsible and hating it. If James thought about it enough, he could probably blame her for that. She was part of why Albus left, after all. 

Mercifully, Albus’ grandfather hurried to fill the void, grinning and shaking her hand far too fast. ‘Wonderful to meet you, but sit down, everyone, sit down. Al’s never brought anyone to lunch with us before, this should be _lovely_ ,’ said Arthur, ushering everyone to the armchairs. 

‘Unless you count Scorpius,’ muttered James. 

‘ _Rose_ brought Scorpius and where are they?’ said Al, desperate. 

‘Probably coming with Ron and Hermione,’ said Harry, already sat next to his wife. They both looked pointedly polite; not cold, but guarded. Eva could appreciate that. At least Ginny wasn’t being aggressively domestic at her again. ‘George had to cancel. Trouble with cover at the shop. They’re doing better business now Christmas is…’ 

‘Back on,’ said Ginny dryly. Eva was relieved to see Albus look confused so she didn’t have to, and Ginny continued. ‘The war’s over. So Christmas is going to be the big celebration.’ 

Molly was moving between kitchen and living room like she was on some sort of cycle, and soon enough Eva found a mug of tea pressed into her hands without even being consulted. The smell of a roast dinner wafted through, and would have been enticing if she weren’t too tense to be hungry. This wasn’t about dinner. It was about survival. ‘We’ll do a big lunch for everyone on Christmas Day,’ said Molly as she passed, and again beamed too-broadly at Eva and Albus. ‘You’re both welcome, of course; unless you had plans.’ 

Albus looked flabbergasted. ‘I didn’t - we don’t - do we?’ He looked at Eva. 

She tried to not look betrayed, and turned her gaze onto the assembled Potter-Weasleys. The temptation to lie was almost overwhelming. Almost. ‘I don’t, uh -’ She paused, rallied, and marched on like hurling herself at a firing squad. ‘I’ve never celebrated Christmas.’ They all, down to Albus, stared with a mixture of shock and pity, which at least meant she felt irritated instead of intimidated. ‘I’m from Algeria. We don’t, didn’t do Christmas.’ Traditions and ceremonies had been part of the life she’d left behind when she’d joined Prometheus, and it had always mattered to her mother more. But she still remembered them, Ramadan and Eid, even if she was hazy, after more than ten years, on what it all _meant_. 

At least now they looked awkward from culture clash instead of her history as a hired killer, and Eva almost burst with relief when the door swung open for the arrival of Scorpius, Rose and her family. Greetings were exchanged, she didn’t need to be introduced to anyone this time, and Scorpius demonstrated exactly why she’d wanted him there when he bounced right up to Molly for a huge bear-hug. 

‘Molly, I haven’t had one of your roast dinners in _literally_ a lifetime; this smells _amazing_ -’ Albus was right. Molly Weasley loved him. Eva wasn’t sure if this provided a great distraction or if he was going to make her look bad in comparison. She was also less sure if he’d asked Rose to wrangle them an invitation to be backup for _her_ , or just so he could get a free roast dinner. 

‘Honestly, Eva,’ Scorpius continued once he’d disentangled himself, ‘you’re about to have the best meal of your life. Albus might have cooked for you before, but I think the talent dilutes through generations.’ 

Eva heard Albus give a soft, ‘ _uh oh_ ,’ beside her, just in time to spot Ginny cocking her head. 

‘You’re saying my cooking’s not as good as my mum’s, Scorpius?’ 

Scorpius stared at Ginny like she’d just turned into a large, hairy spider. ‘ _Oh_ , that was a trap.’ 

‘Actually,’ said Rose wryly, ‘you did that to yourself, and I’m not helping you.’ 

‘Abandoned.’ Scorpius slapped a palm against his forehead, and flopped onto the sofa next to Eva. ‘It’s a family conspiracy. We’ll need to consolidate, reinforce against the dreaded Potter-Weasley brood.’ 

‘Hey,’ said Albus. ‘ _You_ came _here_.’ 

‘To be fed, Al, not to be viciously ground underfoot…’ 

Scorpius waxed lyrically melodramatic for a while, which suited Eva just fine. Sitting in quiet amusement kept the heat off her, and let her people-watch, which she was more comfortable doing even at the best of times. She knew she owed Scorpius for this; for the briefing beforehand, and for drawing the heat off her now, as she knew it was intentional. He played the fool, he made people laugh, and everyone was so genuinely pleased to see him that he could become the centre of attention and get away with it. 

This lasted until Molly moved them to the dining table for lunch, then she made good on Scorpius’ promise that the best meal of Eva’s life was coming. 

‘Albus didn’t tell me if there’s something you don’t eat,’ said Molly airily, depositing dish after dish on the table in a seemingly endless parade of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and Brussels sprouts, as if her oven were a clown car. ‘So I just made _lots_ and be sure to tell me if there’s nothing you -’ 

‘It all looks wonderful,’ said Eva quickly. ‘Thank you.’ While she wasn’t lying, the carefully structured courtesies felt awkward as they tumbled out, artificial, and she caught a sidelong glance from James as she spoke. Either he was the only one picking up on it, or everyone else was too polite to react. 

At the least, commenting became impossible because soon there was eating. Now she had to resist the urge to scoff down food with the age-old instinct of one who knew what it was like to be _truly_ hungry, and most of the chit-chat over the table drifted between the upper two generations about what would be coming in Niemandhorn. 

‘…don’t see why I need to go,’ Ron grumbled as he demolished a small castle of mashed potato. ‘If I wanted responsibility I’d have taken the Patrol Director gig.’ 

‘Because I’ll be up to my ears in committees,’ said Harry. ‘And I can’t attend them all, and even if you’re _not_ the deputy it’s almost like the world’s realised you know what you’re talking about and can speak on my behalf.’ 

‘I’ve spent a _very long time_ nurturing my reputation as your yes-man specifically so I don’t _have_ to!’ 

Scorpius, at the far end, leaned towards Albus and said in a stage whisper, ‘Hey, Al, that’s a good idea; maybe I should do that for you?’ 

‘Oh my God,’ Rose muttered, and Eva declined to comment on the similarities between her father and her boyfriend. 

Harry fought a smirk as he looked across the table at Ron. ‘I promise a holiday when it’s over.’ 

Hermione skewered a sprout. ‘Though it’s not like I’m taking time off soon.’ 

‘Brilliant.’ Ron beamed. ‘Some alone time.’ He waved his fork, then helped himself to more beef. ‘Fine, fine, I’ll take some meetings off your plate. So long as it’s not those judicial process ones, full of lists of horrible people doing horrible things and how much we’re going to… punish… uh.’ Eva would have been happy to let the comment slide by, but she caught Hermione’s wince just before she heard Albus’ sharp inhale, then Ron’s voice trailed off and he peered across the table at Harry as if he could save him. 

_Well, that was inevitable._   
  
Harry cleared his throat. ‘I’ll do those,’ he said awkwardly. 

‘Yeah.’ James put his knife and fork down and tilted his chin up a challenging half-inch. ‘How do they usually _go_?’ 

Albus glared across the table. ‘Jim.’ 

‘What? I’m just asking. How do you weigh those up; what’re the mathematics of guilt plus crimes minus good deeds equals punishment? Or lack thereof?’ 

Eva slipped her hand under the table and touched Albus’ elbow as discreetly as she could. _Don_ _’t rise to the bait. Don’t do it._

Harry lowered his glass. ‘James, it’s complicated.’ 

‘Okay, sure, that’s why I’m asking.’ He looked down the table to Eva, dark eyes clear and challenging. ‘I guess I’m just curious.’ 

Unhelpfully, evading and redirecting when confronted were habits Eva had tried to break herself of. They’d led to too many moral compromises in the past. ‘If you have questions, James, by all means, ask.’ She sipped her water and didn’t break eye contact. 

‘Sure; sure, I think I will -’ 

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘That’ll be a first.’ 

Scorpius judiciously shovelled more food down his throat. 

James glared at Rose. ‘What’s _that_ supposed to mean?’ 

‘ _Some_ of us have fought a war and struggled and suffered for it; _some_ of us have stood on the sidelines and done nothing but snipe and judge -’ 

‘Rose, that’s not fair,’ admonished her mother. 

Scorpius leaned forwards and looked down the table. ‘So, Ron, how badly d’you think the Cannons are going to get smashed -’ 

‘ _Somebody_ _’s_ got to judge,’ snapped James. ‘As everyone else seems to want to sit around and pretend like this isn’t _crazy_.’ 

Ginny looked like she was either going to set the table on fire or Disapparate. ‘James, this isn’t the time -’ 

‘That’s not what you were muttering this morning, Mum, at the sheer _idea_ of this -’ 

Now Eva wondered if _she_ could Disapparate, but she felt Albus tense even more beside her and realised it was going to get worse before it got better. He straightened, his jaw iron tight. ‘I thought we could have a civil family lunch.’ 

‘Why?’ said James, rounding on him. ‘Because you were so good at the last one?’ 

Even Scorpius stopped mid-patter at that, wincing. ‘Steady on -’ 

‘I don’t need a Malfoy telling me how to talk to my own brother -’ 

‘I think that’s enough from everyone.’ Previous interjections had failed; nobody’s parents could rein in this much old bitterness and present awkwardness. But the simple, calm comment from Molly Weasley at the head of the table had everyone, even James, shutting up. All heads swivelled as she stood and picked up the empty dish that had once held roast potatoes. ‘Because, honestly, if this keeps up I don’t think anyone’s getting trifle for pudding.’ 

Ron shot to his feet. ‘I’ll get that, Mum, you sit -’ 

She swatted his hand away. ‘No, dear, because I’ve invited everyone over for a roast dinner, and so you’re going to sit and talk and I’m going to feed you. And I know what you’re thinking.’ She looked up and down the table, and while Eva was ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest provocation, feeling how immediately Albus’ anger was replaced with guilt that made her appreciate the true power of a simple look from the Weasley matriarch. Her daughter was a mere pretender to the throne, still. ‘By now, I should be smacking hands and shouting at you all. But I’m not going to. Because this is the third time I’ve sat my family down for dinner at the end of a long war, but this is the _first_ time there are no empty chairs. No funerals. Well, we did have a funeral, but Scorpius had the decency to get better.’ 

‘It was only a setback,’ he agreed in a cheerful yet low voice, but it was still enough for Rose to reach for his hand on the table. 

Molly gave him a small, warm smile. ‘Some of you know how lucky you are. Those of you who don’t - you’relucky for _that_. But I won’t have this family survive a war and then get ripped apart anyway. I won’t have it. James, you’ve worked very hard the last couple of years to be there for your family. And that’s been very hard on you, and I know it’s left you tired. But if you keep it up for just a little longer and with _everyone_ , I promise it’s going to get better. Rose, Albus; you’ve fought a war, and you’ve been through a lot. You’ve _done_ a lot for the whole world. So now you also need to do something more, and that’s be patient for your family, because you’ve seen and done things they haven’t, and it takes time to build bridges across these experiences. Scorpius, Eva…’ 

Her gaze landed on them, at the far end of the table, and Eva found herself like a deer in the headlights, not at all prepared for home truths from this kindly yet terrifying matriarch. But Molly just smiled and picked up an empty dish. ‘Would you like some trifle?’ 

Scorpius, of course, rallied first. ‘I’d _love_ trifle.’ 

‘I’m not going to lie,’ said Eva. ‘I thought trifle was a sort of problem.’ 

‘Try some,’ said Scorpius, ‘and just feed yours to Albus if you don’t like it.’ 

‘But not literally.’ James cleared his throat. He’d gone an odd shade of pink under his grandmother’s diatribe, and it had only faded a little by now. ‘We don’t need to see that.’ 

The smiles were genuine but awkward, like the silence when Molly bustled off to the kitchen, and it broke only when Ron looked up from the table, peered at Scorpius suspiciously, and cleared his throat. ‘What did you say about the Cannons?’

* * 

‘That,’ said Albus, closing the door to Eva’s flat behind him some four hours later, ‘could have gone worse.’ 

She made for the window, because it felt too hot and cloying even in a house with little internal heating in midwinter, but not before giving him a dubious look. ‘Yes, your brother could have actually set the room on fire. Wait, that would have been an improvement.’ 

He gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘You’re obviously new to Weasley-Potter family gatherings if you thought that was a disaster.’ 

The gust of wind from the open window brought her back to frozen reality. ‘You and Rose had a _row_ with your brother in the middle of dinner. Your mother failed to intervene because James knew she _agrees_ with him.’ 

‘It wasn’t -’ 

‘Your family were _polite_ but awkward as hell. We have less than _nothing_ in common. No Quidditch, no work talk, no _travel_ talk, because I don’t care for Quidditch, my job experience is _killing_ people, and anywhere I’ve travelled to I have _also_ been killing people. There’s a kind of murder theme to my small talk.’ She spun, hands on the windowsill. ‘You cannot _possibly_ paint that as “just one of those things,” Albus.’ 

His expression creased. ‘If you just give them time -’ 

‘Time for what? For them to forget? For me to get a - a normal person job and normal person hobbies that I _can_ talk to them about?’ The cold wind was bringing back the truth, but it wasn’t loosening the tension in her throat, in her gut, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. 

‘I don’t have the easiest time of it, either! They talk about anything over the last two years and, oops, I wasn’t here, I was off hunting dark wizards -’ 

‘But you can talk about things _before_ that. And you _will_ slot back into a life with them; that’s how it works.’ 

She went to turn away, but then Albus lunged closer, snatching her hand. ‘What if I don’t want it to work that way? What if I want it to work a way with _you_?’ 

Eva looked up to see those peerless, honest green eyes, and wished she could sink into them as she had so many times before. But they were meant to be beyond lies and delusion; this was meant to be real. All of it, for once. ‘I won’t be a source of argument for you and your brother -’ 

‘James and I have managed to argue _fine_ for _years_ without you. There were a lot of things going on in that row, and most of them had nothing to do with you.’ He stepped in, so she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, and all that did was make her feel more powerless under him. ‘You saw how he rounded on Scorpius. You saw how _Rose_ started on him. Even without you, there’s lots that needs working on. And I want to work on it _with_ you.’ 

‘I don’t know how to. The longest conversation I had was with your grandmother about the _food_ in _Russia_ , and don’t lie to me, that was desperate. If Scorpius hadn’t been there to take the heat off me, I don’t know _how_ it would have gone.’ 

‘I’m not pretending it was perfect. I _know_ it was pretty damn bad. But everyone in that room, except for maybe James, knew the score. They’re not under any illusions about you. They knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but they wanted you there anyway. And yes, it’s for my sake, but you being there wasn’t a _surprise_ to anyone. The Weasley family is all about bringing in the waifs and strays. It’s how Scorpius got there. It’s how _Dad_ got there. One bad dinner is not the end of the world.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, gaze ardent and now, she thought, pleading. ‘And even if all dinners are bad, that doesn’t have to affect you and me.’ 

‘It will. Don’t be naive, Albus, you can’t compartmentalise your life more. That’s what your grandmother was saying to you, to Rose. The war’s over, she was saying, and it’s time to go _home_.’ Her gaze dropped. ‘But I don’t know if I can go home with you.’ 

He opened his mouth, all defiant obliviousness, but at that exact moment an owl flew through the window and into them. 

To say it was a moment-ruiner was something of an understatement, but Eva couldn’t fight the relief at the shocked reeling, the wings flapping in their faces, and the hunt to recover the bird and whatever message it was bringing their way. Anything it had to say was better than continuing this conversation. 

Al got there first, and his expression turned a different kind of serious as he removed the letter and cracked it open. ‘It’s word from Goyle,’ he said, brow furrowing, and Eva waited in awkward silence as he read on. ‘He’s found Draco. They exchanged word and Goyle knows where he’s staying - some magical hotel in the wilderness of Sri Lanka.’ 

‘That’s not a short trip.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Albus’ jaw set as he folded the letter and looked at her. ‘We’ll go after Niemandhorn -’ 

‘You can’t do that; he might be gone by then.’ 

‘Probably.’ He frowned more. ‘I’ll tell Scorpius; he and Rose can go -’ 

‘Except they haven’t done the reading on Draco’s accounts and resources; if they meet trouble, they might not be able to unravel it. You have to go, Al. Bring them with you, but you have to be there, and soon.’ 

He scowled. ‘I’m not sending you to Niemandhorn on your own. I’m not _letting_ you go through that hearing alone -’ 

‘I have a judge on my side, and the Chairman of the IMC.’ She slunk closer and reached for his hands. ‘They have your written accounts. The die is cast, and all we can do now is wait. But finding Draco Malfoy? You can still influence that, Al.’ Her grip tightened. ‘Finish the job. They need you more than me.’ 

Albus glared at her for a moment, then looked away and let out a long, slow breath. ‘Fine,’ he said at length. ‘But when this is over - when I’m back and you’re pardoned - we’re having another conversation about this dinner. And maybe another dinner.’ 

_I wonder_ , thought Eva idly, _if I can convince the hearing to execute me instead._


	49. Free in Soul

‘It’s hard to believe that two months ago I spent most of my time in a boring safehouse in Copenhagen,’ groaned Scorpius. ‘That was pretty miserable.’ 

‘Try baking to death in Egypt,’ muttered Rose over her shoulder. 

Albus gave them both level looks as the cart lurched under them and began trundling up the road. For now, the way was wide and paved, Etuna trees leaning down for snippets of paltry shade against the blazing sun. But they were at the foot of not just one hill, but a sprawling range of slopes leading to the mountains that culminated in Pidurutalagala, the tallest in Sri Lanka. While the highest peaks were not their destination, moving into the hidden hillocks masked by magic and cliffs meant they would soon enough be on narrow, uneven dirt tracks, far from civilisation. 

‘I,’ said Albus archly, ‘was in _Poland_. In _October_. Fighting _Dark Wizards._ It’s cold and wet and miserable.’ 

Only thin air seemed to draw their wagon, but it still needed a weather-worn wizard to drive it. Rose had negotiated with him even as they set off, and only now swung into the back to join them. ‘Unfortunately, we’ll be going so high the temperature’s going to drop.’ 

Scorpius sighed. ‘So much for going to where it’s summer this time of year. It was _nice_ in Kandy, I _liked_ Kandy.’ 

‘Blame your father.’ 

‘Oh, I do.’ He looked over the back of the wagon, at the small magical village they’d Portkeyed to from the city of Kandy as it shrank into nothing behind them. ‘It’s almost like he’s gone into hiding in the most luxuriously inhospitable corner of the world he could find. Why do we need to drive up here, anyway? Why can’t we fly, or Floo?’ 

‘The Central Province is rich in magic. I don’t know why, I only read a pamphlet,’ said Rose, and ignored the looks of mock-astonishment Albus and Scorpius exchanged at the notion she _hadn_ _’t_ done exhaustive research on their destination. ‘It doesn’t affect the Muggles much, barring how it enriches the soil, which is why this is one of the tea capitals of the world. But it’s also why this region is a herbologist’s dream. The hotel your father’s staying at used to be a herbology factory.’ 

‘That’s interesting,’ said Albus, ‘but doesn’t explain anything.’ 

‘It _also_ interferes with magical navigation. So you can’t Floo or Apparate up there easily. A Portkey would - I suppose if it were properly prepared, it could be even _more_ powerful… but that would only work for an _outgoing_ Portkey, not an _inbound_ Portkey. We _could_ fly, but wedon’t know the region well enough to navigate from a broom, especially if there’s any magical disruption to our sense of direction.’ 

‘So, here we are,’ groaned Scorpius, and put his pack behind his head to lounge across the open-topped wagon, which was little more than a glorified block of wood on wheels, even if it was a magic block. On another day, he might have appreciated all they’d seen, passing through Columbo and then Kandy, granted snippets of insight into the lives and culture of magical Sri Lanka. But they were only snippets, and he could not bring himself to care. Not yet. 

‘We won’t get there by nightfall,’ Rose continued. ‘So I’ve packed the tent, and tomorrow we’ll finish the journey on foot. It’ll be about another four hours then.’ Then she flopped onto Scorpius’ stomach, and closed her eyes. 

He grunted. ‘Comfy there?’ 

‘I’ve planned our entire travel itinerary and my body still thinks it’s six o’ clock in the evening. If I nap now, I stand a chance of not crashing before night, and getting a half-decent sleep cycle.’ 

‘Yeah, set your body to Sri Lankan time. We won’t _be_ here the day after tomorrow, at the _latest_.’ 

‘I hated that about travel the most,’ sighed Albus, slipping on his sunglasses. ‘Time lag, it’s bloody horrible. Now you _can_ get a Portkey across the world almost at once, it’s way worse.’ 

‘Damn the IMC for being efficient.’ Scorpius snapped his fingers. ‘Remember when you needed to stop in almost every country you crossed and sign stupid papers? Was there even a _magical_ reason for making lots of shorter Portkey jumps?’ 

‘Early Portkey magics were less powerful,’ said Rose, eyes still shut as she basked, sprawled across him. ‘So it was safer for international travel to be from country to country. As Portkey magics got more powerful, governments were afraid of illegal travellers, so they kept the tight bureaucracy for control.’ 

‘Of course, the IMC streamlining the process so if you’ve gone through _one_ security checkpoint you don’t need to go through _twelve_ just shows that’s world governments being pissy and petty.’ Scorpius groaned. ‘I bet we’ll go back to that.’ 

‘Maybe. Maybe people have learnt their lesson. Maybe the IMC’s proved international cooperation _can_ happen, maybe we’ll keep the international travel and communication. You know,’ said Al, ‘the good bits of the crisis. I imagine they’ll be hammering all that out at Niemandhorn right now.’ 

Scorpius frowned across the wagon at him, most of Albus’ expression hidden behind his sunglasses. ‘You don’t have to be here, you know.’ 

‘Scorp, we had this conversation -’ 

‘And Rose and I can handle my father. If you want to be there at Niemandhorn when Eva -’ 

‘I do want to be there.’ Albus propped his glasses on his forehead, gaze serious. ‘But if it goes wrong or if it goes right, there is _nothing_ I can do about it. If something goes awry here? I _can_ help. Besides, I said I’d find your father. I haven’t found him yet. My job’s not done.’ His lips curled after a moment’s contemplation. ‘And now we can do this together.’ 

Scorpius felt Rose stiffen just the slightest, and tried to ignore it. He had been doing a fine job of not thinking too hard about the ritual - about Rose’s face right before she’d finished the incantation, about the look in her eye when he’d awoken to find himself alive and de Sablé dead. Now, with his father so close, with answers so close, was not the time to change that. 

So he just looked at Albus as they rattled along on a magic-drawn cart to a corner of Sri Lanka so imbued with magic few wizards visited, bathed in bright sunlight of the summer of the far side of the world, and grinned. ‘Yep. Just like old times.’

* * 

‘I don’t like this.’ 

Selena slapped Matt’s hand away from his collar, which he’d been obsessively fiddling with for the last half-hour. ‘You’re like a twelve year-old, you know? Stop fidgeting.’ 

‘It’s too tight.’ 

‘Formal dress robes are _supposed_ to be snug. Form-fitting. Flattering.’ 

‘Hermetically sealed?’ 

A dour-faced witch in the row in front of them looked over her shoulder and raised a finger to her lips. ‘Shh!’ 

Selena narrowed her eyes at the back of her head. ‘She shushed me,’ she muttered to Matt. ‘Doesn’t she know who I am?’ 

‘Probably not.’ 

‘My own mother’s here to talk about her plans of world domination -’ 

‘So you should be quiet, leave my collar alone, and _listen_.’ 

She did, reluctantly, subside. After all, viewing seats in Niemandhorn’s main chamber, in which the entirety of the International Magical Convocation was gathered this evening, were in short supply. The room was a huge semi-circle, tiered seating tumbling down to a platform against the tall windows beyond which shimmered the peaks of the Alps. Every inch of the chamber burst at the seams with witches and wizards more important than them. Only by dint of her mother had the two of them secured seats in the upper levels, though Lillian Rourke had _insisted_ Selena attend. It would be important, she’d said. 

Selena wasn’t sure why the opening of the IMC’s conference to resolve the issues of the Council of Thorns was essential viewing, but she knew better than to defy her mother when she had an idea in her head. Besides, she wasn’t just in Niemandhorn to support Matt, whose ceremony would be in a couple of days, or even to support Eva, whose hearing would be tomorrow. She didn’t particularly want to support Eva at _all_ , but Albus was long gone and she owed her friends that much. 

She also owed her mother this much. Even if Selena knew full-well her mother would do perfectly fine without her. 

True enough, within moments she could see the tiny, distant shape of Lillian Rourke entering the chamber and walking the long aisle between rows of chairs to the platform before the tall windows. A low rumble ran through the chamber, anticipation and excitement, and Selena leaned in to Matt. ‘Let’s get dinner in our room after this; the dining hall is going to be _unbearably_ smug.’ 

Matt’s lips twisted, affectionate and wry. ‘You do know you don’t have to pretend you _don_ _’t_ care with me?’ 

Selena stared at him. ‘I don’t - of course I care, it’s my mother -’ 

_But you_ _’ve always acted so incredibly superior, like she’s just playing games or treating world politics as a hobby, and maybe you do that because otherwise you have to recognise your mother puts certain issues and topics_ above _you, which is a whole new level of awkward your father would happily exploit -_   
  
‘Citizens of the world.’ Her mother’s voice interrupted her reverie, booming through the chamber by acoustics and charms, and there was a fresh ripple in the crowd as interpreters leaned in to representatives and others simply got excited. For her part, Selena just reached for Matt’s hand, clasping the metal prosthetic, and tried to listen without being deafened by her heart thudding in her ears. 

Somewhere down the line, her mother had stopped being just a diplomat and become a full-blown politician. Selena had realised this, because someone good at parties and negotiations, with had a fine grasp of global politics, did not by those virtues alone become Chairman of the International Magical Convocation. But she had never been present and interested in Lillian Rourke’s greatest tests of leadership. She had been hunting the Chalice and presumed dead when Lillian made Chairman; after Scorpius died, Selena had been far too diverted by the needs of her friends to listen to politics. And she’d been in the clutches of Raskoph come the resurgence of the war and the renewal of the IMC’s power. 

This was, perhaps, the first time she’d sat down and properly paid attention to how her mother could captivate a room and the hearts and minds within it. She used good, strong words like ‘ _persevere_ ’ and ‘ _endure_ ’ and talked about how the ‘ _iniquities_ ’ of their enemies would not, had not been tolerated. She reminded everyone of how the world had come together, united against evil, and how it had won; then she turned it around and reminded the room that _they_ were the world, that _they_ were the ones who had stood shoulder to shoulder and emerged victorious. 

It inspired and pleased them, and then it bound them together. It was, Selena thought, a good speech. A good way to make people remember the excellent work the IMC had done before it would disband and the nations of the world go their separate ways once again - 

‘ _\- but there is no need for us to stop here. The Council of Thorns preyed upon us because we were divided, and weak where we were different. Bound by common cause, we achieved a great deal in war; imagine, then, what the International Magical Convocation could bring in_ peace _. And so we will not spend the coming days dismantling all we have built, but changing it, moving forward. A new, united magical government for a new, united magical world._ ’ 

That caused a fresh ripple through the crowd, though the shock, Selena noticed, fell more to the viewing gallery. Most of the representatives seated below thundered their hands together, and while only half of them, to her eye, looked like they’d _expected_ this, almost none of them looked _surprised_. 

‘She’s not dropping this on them. This has been coming a while,’ said Selena, stunned. 

Matt was frowning, though she couldn’t tell if he was confused or disapproving. Maybe he didn’t know. He leaned in, voice dropping as the hubbub rose around them, punctuated more by applause and cheers than discontent. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘Yeah, I just - why shouldn’t I be? It’s not like we were going to spend dedicated mother-daughter time together when this is over,’ said Selena, and meant it. ‘There was always going to be rebuilding work -’ 

‘You don’t _look_ okay.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t think of it as exploitative. There’s a lot of good that can come from this -’ 

‘Maybe, I don’t -’ _I don_ _’t care about the politics._ ‘Can we go?’ 

He looked surprised, but nodded. Lillian hadn’t continued, because the fuss of the crowd was too loud, loud enough to drown in, and so it wasn’t that difficult to displace the seated witches and wizards and get out of the viewing gallery, back into the subdued corridors of Niemandhorn Castle. Emerging from the chamber was like bursting to the surface after sinking underwater, and Selena found herself still clutching at Matt, head spinning. 

‘I guess that’s why she wanted me here,’ she said, pressing a hand to her forehead. 

‘She probably thought it would be nice,’ said Matt, stumbling on words and clearly unsure how he was supposed to help. 

She wasn’t sure, either, mostly because she wasn’t sure why this news stuck in her throat and tried to choke her. But before she could find a good answer for Matt, let alone herself, another door further down the corridor burst open for someone else to escape the viewing gallery, equally worn, equally pale. 

‘Oh,’ said Nathalie Lockett, staring at them like a guilty escapee. ‘You’re - did you know that was coming?’ 

Matt stared between them, the rock of calm in this sea of confusion probably because he was too bewildered to react. ‘Why is everyone freaking out about this?’ 

_Because I_ _’m only supposed to_ ** _joke_** _about my mother plotting world domination_. 

‘I’m not,’ said Lockett, rallying in a way Selena didn’t find at all convincing. ‘It was just - hot in there. And I’ve got a lot of politics to deal with.’ 

Then she was gone, hurrying down the corridor before Selena could think to ask why _she_ cared, why _she_ was bothered by it - 

But at the end of the day, caring about the myriad of issues Nathalie Lockett collected like a tourist gathered cheap trinkets had always been Scorpius’ job. And this, for once, was just about her, not about Scorpius, not about Rose, not about Albus. 

Selena turned to Matt, and felt the storm rising inside of her, a thunder of a fear she didn’t understand, an anxiety she hadn’t expected. He watched her through a mask of apprehension, obviously unsure if he should reach for her or let her work through this, and she had to give a sad, grateful smile. ‘I have no idea what’s going on.’ 

His gaze turned relieved, because he didn’t know what was going on, either. ‘Then how about,’ he said, padding over and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, ‘dinner in our room and while Eva’s in her hearing tomorrow, you find your mum for a talk?’ 

It sounded almost sensible. But, best of all, it delayed the problems for another day, and Selena Rourke accepted she was nothing if not a hypocrite when it came to dealing with issues.

* * 

Scorpius went for a walk once they were done with dinner. While Rose wanted to go after him, make sure he wasn’t quietly exploding with apprehension about the coming confrontation with his father, she knew she had to accept that if he wanted to talk, he’d have stayed. So she made herself busy, jumping up the moment Albus started to stack plates. ‘I’ll do the washing.’ 

Al looked at her, then to the tent flap, and pointed out, ‘We could _both_ do it.’ 

‘But you cooked.’ 

‘And I’ve clearly got so much _else_ to do here.’ The corners of his lips curled. 

With wands it didn’t take much time to clean up anyway, so Albus put the kettle on after and it almost felt like old times, like they were hurtling across the world after Prometheus Thane and Matt would come out of nowhere to talk about some new lead on the Chalice. But thinking about Matt made her think about de Sablé, so she grabbed mugs and said, quickly, ‘I’m still sorry you can’t be with Eva in Niemandhorn.’ 

‘So am I,’ said Albus, more honest than earlier, and she realised he wouldn’t dream of expressing regret in front of Scorpius. ‘But you know, _she_ insisted I be here. She gets how important this is. How we need to finish it.’ 

‘We do.’ Rose frowned as she poured them both steaming cups of tea. ‘And then it’s over and we get… lives. You even get a happily ever after with her.’ 

The corners of his eyes creased. ‘If she gets off.’ 

‘You said that was likely.’ 

‘And it is.’ Albus sighed. ‘And it’s what I want. But I don’t - you ever feel like we’re dodging retribution? Consequences? She’s done all these things, _I_ _’ve_ done all these things, and so we just… we go home afterwards? We make bad choices, and some of them regret but some of them we _don_ _’t_ , and we -’ 

Then he stopped short and that guilty look stole across his face, like a dog who’d broken a toy but hidden the evidence, and Rose’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t the only one feeling like his words could apply to more than him and Eva. She pulled her mug of tea closer. ‘I don’t know.’ 

Albus looked at the table. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ he said, ‘because I wanted to give you the space to come to me. I’m not hurt you didn’t say anything. I understand. And we can go right back to not talking about de Sablé if you want. But I do know. Only a fool wouldn’t know.’ 

She heard him point out Scorpius knew, and heard him not ask if they’d discussed it. But now it was out there, now Albus had said de Sablé’s name, moving on would be like cramming too much into far too small a box. Rose looked at her tea. ‘Are you angry?’ 

He let out a raking breath. ‘Rose, wouldn’t I be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I was pissed at you? You think I wouldn’t have done _exactly_ the same for him?’ 

‘Why,’ said Rose slowly, deliberately, ‘do people act like being a hypocrite is the _worst_ thing someone can be? A hypocrite can still be _right_. We’re not suddenly _unaccountable_ to hypocrites. You can still hold me to account.’ 

Albus fell silent for long, thudding moments. When he spoke again, his voice was small. ‘It _was_ wrong.’ 

‘You said yourself it was monstrous to ask Scorpius to -’ 

‘You didn’t ask de Sablé.’ Albus looked up, and now he spoke more clearly. He was soft and unaccusing, but firm, eyes bright, and looked more like the Albus she remembered from years back. ‘We agreed Scorpius didn’t have much choice. But he had _a_ choice. De Sablé had nothing.’ 

Even if he’d asked, almost _demanded_ he judge her, indignation rose. ‘No, _I_ had to choose -’ 

‘This wasn’t two paths in a road, Rose, where you took the path that would hurt you least. You _made_ this road. You _invented_ a way to kill someone instead of Scorpius. You _lied_ to de Sablé to get him into that ritual circle. And then you _killed_ him to keep Scorpius alive. I’m not _angry_.’ Albus’ shoulders slumped. ‘I would have done the same, and I think that terrifies me, too. I can’t say we shouldn’t be these people, because if we were, then right now you and I would be broken and Scorpius would be dead. But let’s stop kidding ourselves, Rose. It wasn’t _complicated_. It wasn’t a situation dumped in front of you which you had to muddle through, or a split second’s judgement. You made it happen. It was calculated. And it was wrong.’ 

Albus’ quiet judgement was worse, in a way, than Matt’s raging condemnation. Not for what it said about her, because the voice in her head which pointed out her evils had started to sound like Matt as of late, but for what it said about _them_. 

‘I worry,’ Al continued before she could summon a response, ‘what that says about us, and the future. If I’m trying to convince Eva that she can be a better person, if I say she can be forgiven because she _changed_ , because she _regrets_ what she did, because she _wouldn_ _’t_ do it the same again - but here we are. Still choosing this, not regretting it. I wish we were better than this. Than murdering a man to save someone we like more.’ 

Rose’s brow knotted. ‘You didn’t do it.’ 

‘No.’ But Albus reached for her hand, grip tight. ‘I just would have. And I just love you, Rose, _because_ you did.’

* * 

‘So all you need to do is breathe, tell the truth, impress some scary old men and you’re _golden_.’ 

Eva drained her coffee and pushed the empty mug into Selena’s hands. ‘And hope they’re not too upset by my track record of mercenary violence.’ 

‘No, we want them _impressed_ by your track record of mercenary violence. So long as it’s the mercenary violence you enacted on our behalf.’ 

She _almost_ wished the coffee had contained whiskey. But it was eleven o’ clock in the morning in the middle of bustling Niemandhorn, the castle bursting at the seams with everyone who had come to the centre of the IMC for what Selena was calling the ‘End of the World Meetings.’ The judicial proceedings were some of the first scheduled over the week, which at least meant her fate would be decided soon. 

By the end of the day, in fact. 

Eva straightened her blouse. She wasn’t used to wearing anything she’d describe as a blouse, but Selena had swept into her room that morning with a carry-all and an attitude that would brook no argument. ‘You don’t need to be here.’ 

‘You’ve said that about three times. And you’re right, I don’t _need_ to pick out clothes which make you look respectable but not like a pod person. I don’t need to carry your dirty cups around with me.’ Selena tilted her nose in the air. ‘Haven’t we learnt a lot about our _choices_? Admittedly, in the context of life or death situations, but -’ She stopped and rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t get ideas. I’m here for Albus.’ 

‘That makes considerably more sense.’ 

‘Hey, I could be here out of some sense of altruism, a desire to see you get redeemed and -’ They both stopped, and Selena fixed her gaze on a spot above Eva’s head. She sighed. ‘Good luck in there. I don’t know if you’ll need it. But you deserve it.’ 

‘I do?’ 

Selena Rourke shrugged. ‘Damned if I know,’ she said, just as the door to to the hearings chamber swung open and a well-dressed wizard emerged to beckon her in. 

This was as much of a heartfelt exchange as the two women were like to have, so Eva just gave Selena a thin-lipped nod and walked the corridor to the room where her eternal fate would be decided by some stuffy old witches and wizards with only moderate grasps on the realities of a harsh, war-locked world. 

It was a rounded room with an exterior wall, so every surface bore a gleaming hint of frost, and her breath misted the air. They weren’t too high up in the castle, the tall windows glowing with mid-morning sun of the Alps in winter. A black line cut a swathe across the pristine white snow of the hillside beyond, the train tracks of the Niemandhorn Express. But that was the world beyond, and it didn’t matter. What mattered were the dozen assembled witches and wizards in fine, high-necked, formal robes, all assembled on tiered pews with their backs to the window, peering down at her with gazes that ranged from suspicious to judging to, at best, impassive. Something was missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Judge Roux sat in the centre, a dominating figure who beckoned her to sit in the high-backed chair in the middle of the ring. The arm-rests bore shackles, and she braced herself as she eased down, but nothing happened. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d been permitted to wander freely for some time, but with a sinking feeling, Eva realised she’d never before actually faced the inside of a courtroom. 

‘Opening hearing number forty-seven, December 11th 2026. Gerhardus Roux presiding in the matter of Eva Saida, citizen of the Algerian Magical Government. If the attending would identify themselves for the record.’ 

Introductions rang out through the gathered, including a witch named Hamidou attending on behalf of the Algerian government. Eva managed to not roll her eyes at that; she hadn’t been to Algeria since she was nine years old, and had never been involved in magical life in the country. Hamidou’s presence was nothing more than political. 

Irritation died, however, when the last introduction came from a wizard next to an empty seat, and there was a confused hush while Roux rustled through some papers. ‘The Niemandhorn Express appears to have been delayed this morning, and so we are missing several attendants, most notably British Auror Director Potter.’ 

Eva’s gut twisted. She didn’t know if she could count on Albus’ father to be supportive, condemning, or unhelpfully even-handed, but he was a familiar face in the room who hadn’t meant her harm over a Sunday lunch, she she didn’t feel better for his absence. The Express had to be seeing a lot of traffic under the current circumstances; delays were probably inevitable. 

‘Unfortunately, we’ve got a lot to get through, so we’ll begin,’ Roux said. ‘We have a long list of charges that have been levelled against Ms Saida over the last ten years. It should be noted that many of these deeds allegedly happened when Ms Saida was underage. Furthermore, Ms Saida has not been convicted, though I have the transcripts before me from the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement noting evidence was sufficient for court proceedings to be undertaken.’ 

It was a mixed blessing, Eva thought, that the International Magical Convocation had streamlined a great deal of the judicial process. In the face of corruption and manipulation by the Council of Thorns, the IMC had amended international law to make it far, far easier to secure a conviction against any suspect. What would have doomed her once, though, meant there was now considerably less red tape to claw through to get here. 

‘Ms Saida, I have before me the full confession you gave to the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement, dated October 30th this year. It includes all of your actions under the employ of Prometheus Thane in specific and later, through him, the Council of Thorns. It _also_ includes your work for Balthazar Vadimas and the Russian Federation of Magic.’ Roux waved a hand, and the well-dressed wizard at the door brought her the several sheafs of parchment she remembered penning in the depths of the Canary Wharf cells. ‘I’ll give you a moment to reacquaint yourself with your own words. If you still stand by this written confession, we’ll move onto deeds since then, and not waste time with ancient history.’ 

Eva watched the crowd, not her confession. She knew what she’d written. The reactions were mixed, though Hamidou of Algeria looked irritated. But ‘irritated’ was the worst she had to contend with; the rest, at worst, looked bored. 

_This is my future. My fate. My redemption. And they_ _’ve got twelve of these to get through by suppertime. They really don’t care._ Her gaze met Roux’s. _Except maybe him. And they_ _’ll do as he says because it’s not worth the politics to argue._

And maybe Harry Potter cared, but Harry Potter wasn’t _here_. 

‘We’ll proceed,’ Roux was saying when her attention drifted back in, ‘to the events of November 25th in the South African Department of Magic. I’ll begin by calling up Warrant Officer Pretorius as witness.’ 

A different door than the one Eva had entered by swung open, and the well-dressed wizard led Pretorius in. She wore her dress uniform, a deep shade of blue emblazoned with her badge, but she didn’t look at Eva as she walked to the centre of the chamber and faced the gathered. Roux immediately launched into his questions of the Council of Thorns’ invasion, and Eva found her attention wandering. Pretorius’ answers were short and to the point and, so far as Eva could remember, accurate. 

But did the specific incidents really matter? Not so much as the opinions of the twelve figures before them, and it was to those faces she looked as Pretorius spoke, gauging their reactions. Some looked more intrigued by this turn of events, if only because they were granted a first-hand account of the by-now infamous South African incursion. An American witch seemed particularly enraptured, the bright winter sun casting a halo behind her, a halo that over long minutes began to waft with smoke by the sheer heat of her interest - 

\- wait, that wasn’t right - 

Eva was on her feet before she knew what was happening, and knew she should have faltered as all eyes in the room fell on her. But the twist in her stomach was too iron-tight with dread certainty for her to feel anything else. ‘Is that the train?’ For a heartbeat she thought she was pleased at the idea Harry might make it after all, but then her gut knotted tighter. Something was wrong, her every instinct screamed this at her, but all she could tell for sure was that the handsome blue Niemandhorn Express tore down the track towards the castle. A heartbeat later Pretorius was by the window, staring down. 

‘It’s coming too fast,’ she said, putting the last pieces into place. ‘And it’s not _stopping_ -’ 

They were more or less directly above the platform, which meant the Express disappeared from view only for about three seconds before the crash came. Shrieking metal and shattering rock and the floor beneath them shuddered and groaned like the mountain itself was about to come down, and Eva had to grab her bolted chair to not lose her footing. The windows shattered, several of the witches and wizards fell back out of sight, and the moment the sound of the impact, rippling across the whole castle died down, it was replaced with the sound of screaming. 

Eva lunged over the tiered seating up to the broken window, where Pretorius had somehow kept her footing. ‘This isn’t an accident,’ she hissed. 

‘Of course not,’ said Pretorius, her voice low, gaze calm. This close to the window, she could see the carriages of the Niemandhorn Express strewn about the end of the platform, the nearby cliff-side, and so she could see the figures inexplicably emerging. 

‘That’s _insane_ ,’ she hissed as she recognised the masks, the blackened robes. ‘Raskoph can’t have more than fifty Thornweavers left; Niemandhorn’s security’s going to tear them to -’ 

Then more shapes clambered out of the wreckage, huge and hulking, tearing the metal doors and sides off the carriages to free themselves. They lumbered towards the depths of Niemandhorn Castle with no regard for magical protections or the crash they’d just suffered or the smattering of Thornweavers gathering amongst them. She knew that movement, she knew those shapes, and her breath caught in her throat because she’d not seen their ilk in over two years. 

‘Oh,’ Eva said softly, like she’d had all the air punched out of her. ‘Of course. We took away his Inferi.’ 

Because Niemandhorn Castle was a fortress that could allow any defending force to turn an invading army to shreds by magical bombardment and inherent arcane protections. But a golem army wouldn’t care. A golem army would keep coming. If Raskoph had kept the golems after Ager Sanguinis, had gathered or made _more_ golems, then he _could_ assail the castle. Maybe he could win, maybe he couldn’t - and he wouldn’t win for long, because doubtless reinforcements from across the world would hurry to crush him. But until that happened, he could do a lot of damage and kill a _lot_ of people. 

And Eva wasn’t sure if the remains of the Council of Thorns, beaten and denied a chance to dominate the world, would _care_ about a final victory more sophisticated than that. 


	50. Storms May Shake the World

The old herbology factory which had become the Azure Skies Hotel stood at the top of a long, rolling hill that had once boasted fields of Anghulla Nettles, greenhouses for the local tea plants, but now was well-cultivated gardens to grant the discerning magical guest a heart-stopping view. Or it would be heart-stopping if, even in tropical Sri Lanka, they hadn’t reached the end of their journey to find it shrouded in fog. 

‘A misfortune for you to arrive on such a day,’ said the receptionist as they entered the lobby and Scorpius tried to look less like he’d backpacked through a hillside for the last couple days. ‘The view is, I assure you, astonishing and it is clear most mornings.’ 

‘These things happen,’ he said with his most amenable smile. ‘And we’re hardly going to turn around and go home after such a climb, are we?’ 

Albus leaned on the desk. ‘We’re looking for -’ 

‘Two rooms,’ Scorpius interrupted, and pulled out his coinpurse. 

‘Because first,’ he explained ten minutes later once they stood on the balcony in one of the hotel suites, ‘we’re _not_ just turning around after this walk and going home before nightfall.’ 

‘We could go back down and sleep in the tent.’ Rose peered into the fog gobbling up the view, and then across and down at the white-painted building with its metal beams and shining opulence of, as she’d put it, wizarding colonialism. 

‘I’m paying for this, what’s the problem?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Second, and more importantly, this is a very _private_ resort, for the wizard who doesn’t want to be interrupted. Look at all the hassle in getting here. It’s remote as hell. We can’t just rock up to the front desk and say, “Hello, we’re here to see Draco Malfoy.” They probably won’t tell us. We’re in the same hotel, and we’ll find him, but we have to look _slightly_ like we’re jet-setters.’ 

‘Admit it,’ said Albus, turning away from the railing. ‘You just wanted a night in a fancy hotel room.’ 

‘I _live_ in a fancy hotel.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘But, yes, it would be nice to come all this way and not sleep in our tent. I hate that tent.’ 

‘It’s not “our” tent, it’s _my_ tent,’ Rose grumbled. 

‘I think I’ve earned Squatter’s Rights after all these years.’ 

‘Live in it for eight months like my parents, and then we’ll talk.’ 

Scorpius made a face at the idea of inter-generational romantic angst, and decided it would be best to focus on Albus before Rose realised what he was thinking. ‘I know my father. He’ll be here to hide, but he’ll also be here to enjoy the finer things in life. On a day like today, he might be in his room, but I guarantee that when the weather’s nice he’ll be enjoying the grounds.’ 

‘So that’s our plan?’ said Albus. ‘We wait for the _sun_ to come out?’ 

‘You make it sound like conducting all our operations in nice weather’s a bad idea. No, we wait for lunchtime and find him in the dining room. Even my father doesn’t pay for an expensive place like this and then eat in his suite. Besides, the alternative is going room-to-room; I seriously doubt, when he’s afraid he’ll get murdered by the Council of Thorns and arrested by the International Magical Convocation, he’s going by his real name on the _booking forms_.’ 

‘So our new plan is, in fact, “wait for lunch,”’ said Rose. 

‘ _Actually_ , my plan is to abuse the facilities I’m paying for.’ Scorpius wandered back inside and picked up the leather-bound introduction to the Azure Hotel sat on the dresser. ‘Ooh, they do _massages_.’ He looked up at Albus. ‘You should get one. You look tense. Or big. You know, it’s hard to tell?’ 

Albus sighed. ‘I’m going to check out my room,’ he told Rose, ‘and then I’m raiding the mini-bar for all its chocolate.’ 

‘You’ll ruin your appetite for my years-old lunchtime confrontation with my father!’ Scorpius called after Albus as he left. He felt Rose’s hands on his shoulders and didn’t fight her as she guided him into an armchair. 

She kissed the top of his head and slid her arms around him. ‘Breathe.’ 

‘Breathing is one thing I can do. See, I’m doing _loads_ -’ 

‘Breathe _normally_ and try to not hyperventilate.’ 

‘Am I doing it right if I’m light-headed?’ He closed his eyes and let himself sink into her embrace. ‘Maybe _I_ should get the massage.’ 

‘Not sure how I feel about you going off to let some woman oil you up and rub you down,’ she said, not in the slightest bit serious. 

‘You never know, they might be men - and speaking of which,’ he babbled, ‘we never really talked about that -’ 

‘Scorpius, there are so many _more_ things to worry about than your sexuality, but if I have to be insecure about every man who looks at you as _well_ as every woman, that sounds more like a me-problem,’ said Rose, now sincere. 

‘I thought you-problems were us-problems -’ 

‘And it’s. Not. A problem.’ She tilted his head up to kiss him on the nose. ‘I trust you. I know you hooking up with John was about you, not about me, and I’m sorry if I was weird about it. I think I’d have been weird about anything, but, yes, I was surprised.’ 

‘There’s a lot of that going around,’ he said, still talking too fast. ‘It’s like people won’t get it until I hold up a sign saying, “I’m bisexual, ask me how,” _or_ jump into bed with another man. I guess it’s just not something I _thought_ about a lot, but I - do you actually want to hear this?’ 

She stroked his hair. ‘If you want to talk about it.’ 

He looked up at her, found her smiling, and his heartbeat slowed. ‘I’m okay,’ he whispered. ‘This is just a long time coming - my father, I mean. Longer than Thane’s arrest. They told me it was him right before I - I fell. I knew, all the time I was working for Thane, that my father was out there, helping the Council. I knew he helped smuggle Lethe into so many countries, I know _he_ gave us away in Venice, and who knows what else he’s done. But I want to know the whole truth.’ 

‘We’ll find it.’ 

Scorpius wasn’t much calmer by the time they went down to the dining room for lunch, but he had Rose and Albus by his side and so couldn’t, he reasoned, be better prepared. The sun was breaking through the fog by now and cutting cascading light through the haze for it to shine through the tall windows of the hotel and dazzle them all. The proprietors had taken an old herbology factory and kept much of the old-fashioned metal equipment, cleaned it up and set it as decorations to give the premises a rustic, traditional feeling. 

But there was nothing rustic about the guests. Wizarding robes were the exclusive garb, lighter and shorter than they might find in Britain, of more varied colours and cuts to accommodate the vast diversity of cultures these visitors hailed from. They were united, however, in affluence, in traditionalism, and certainly in a desire to be discreet and a desire to be left alone. Tables were kept well-apart, some were partially protected by canvas screens, and so it took them a long moment, stood at the foot of the stairs and standing out like sore thumbs in their more practical, untraditional clothing, before Scorpius’ gaze landed on his father. He sat at one of the tables off to one side, a screen cutting him off from two-thirds of the room, but a heartbeat after Scorpius saw him, he looked up. 

It might have been shock crossing his face, or delight, or fear, but Scorpius didn’t dare theorise and soon enough Draco had mastered his expression. And all he did next was extend a languid, imperious hand and beckon them over. After all this time, after all that had and hadn’t happened between them, it was still, Scorpius reflect with a bristle, his wont to act like the lord of the manor, complete in his dominion. 

And Scorpius still didn’t know how to do anything but obey, Albus and Rose in his wake like apprehensive guard dogs. 

‘I’ll ask them to set three more places,’ were the first words Draco Malfoy uttered to his son after three years and a resurrection. ‘But take a seat, please, Mister Potter, Miss Weasley; Scorpius.’ 

Scorpius’ legs were like pistons firing on his father’s orders, and they marched him over to do nothing but pull up a chair. He gritted his teeth. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ 

‘I’ve got a great deal to say,’ said Draco, not meeting his gaze as he poured himself tea. ‘But there is absolutely no point saying it while you’re stood in the middle of the Azure Hotel’s dining room like trespassers. Do try the wambatu moju, it’s excellent.’ 

Scorpius clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘Draco -’ 

‘I can only assume you’re not here to arrest me. Your father wouldn’t send the three of you,’ said Draco, inclining his head to Albus. ‘May I ask how you found me?’ 

Albus glanced to Scorpius, then drew a deep breath. ‘Gregory Goyle.’ 

Draco gave a soft, disappointed sigh. ‘He has always cared more for his own skin. But true loyalty is hard to find.’ 

‘It’s not,’ said Scorpius, ‘if you’re not an actual shit-heel.’ 

‘Actually,’ said Albus, still speaking in a calm, level voice, ‘while he _does_ want clemency in exchange for helping us, he wants _you_ to earn clemency as well.’ 

Draco looked up as the waiter arrived, and asked for more place-settings and menus to be brought as if this were a delightful drop-in of family instead of the end of a global hunt. Nothing was said until the cutlery was brought and the untouched menus set in front of the trio, and he sipped his tea. ‘Gregory,’ he said at length, ‘might be able to earn clemency. Neither he nor his family has my track record. I doubt I’ll slip away quite so easily.’ His expression pinched, and he frowned at nothing in particular. ‘I _know_ I shan’t slip away so easily. Clemency comes when you cooperate and tell all. _Nobody_ wants me to tell all.’ 

Scorpius leaned forwards. ‘ _I_ want you to tell all. Draco - _Father_ -’ 

Draco flinched at last, and set his tea down hard. ‘You were dead,’ he told the saucer in a hard, fierce voice. ‘I had no reason to stop them, but no reason to _help_ them, either, and then they _had_ you, so what could I do except ship that _bloody_ virus -’ 

‘I -’ Scorpius worked his jaw. ‘Thane said you knew I was with _him_ -’ 

‘I did.’ 

‘So why did you help the Council for _my_ sake -’ Pieces of the puzzle he’d tried to not think about, because they were of an endless, inky black night and he didn’t _want_ to slot them together, began to fall into place. ‘Thane never stopped working for the Council.’ 

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose. ‘I’d order some tea,’ he said. ‘This is a long story.’ 

Scorpius did, because he wasn’t sure what else to do, and Draco didn’t talk again until he’d thrown three lumps in a cup and ruined very good local tea. 

‘You’ve no doubt heard by now how the Council of Thorns started up. It was never just one man. Surviving loyalists of Grindelwald ran to South America after the war, and pockets of Brazil, Chile, Bolivia became like pilgrimages for the dark wizards of the world, places they could gather and not be looked for _too_ hard. It was inevitable that something would come of the lot of them, and that something turned out to be a Council. A gathering of old wizards and those who adored the _stories_ of Grindelwald, of Voldemort, but had never served them. They were small and they were petty but they had friends in many places, and at first all they did was try to influence global politics. Keep their thumbs in different governments. Maybe bully and manipulate and bribe but they were a glorified interest group for the traditionally-minded wizard. Or, that was what they were when I met them.’ 

Scorpius sipped the tea and knew he would have found it disgusting if his tongue weren’t too numb to taste. ‘That was when you fell in with them. Funded them?’ 

Draco sighed. ‘It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I was pushing the company to go international, _global_ , and they were people who would do business with the name “Malfoy”. I liked many of their principles, and I was the sort of man they wanted to help. Early on they invested, helped me secure contracts. Once I was bigger, richer, I owed them, and they collected.’ 

Rose leaned forwards. ‘But at some point they became more than just political meddlers.’ 

‘It was a long road. Bullying turned into brutalising turned into murders, attacks. Not much would have come of it were it not for two factors. The first was certain interested and _powerful_ international figures giving them backing, which was how they pooled their resources to gather the clout to take over the Brazilian government.’ 

‘The second was Raskoph,’ said Albus. 

‘I only learnt of this later,’ said Draco. ‘And that is a clarification this isn’t first-hand information, not an attempt to distance myself. This was about four years ago; I knew what the Council was by then and what they wanted, but I didn’t think much would _come_ of them. But then, yes, Joachim Raskoph joined their ranks. He was viewed as a brutal extremist by even the nastier of the Grindelwald loyalists, and only had influence because he promised them a weapon. A weapon that would make the world fear the Council of Thorns, but also give them an _army_.’ 

Scorpius swallowed, his throat dry. ‘Lethe.’ 

Draco sipped tea. ‘The mere idea of the Stygian Plagues. Of course, he didn’t have them. But he’d spent eighty years trying to recreate them and had got as far as he could without proper tests. This became Phlegethon’s unleashing on Hogwarts, and I _assure_ you, I didn’t know this was happening until it was already underway.’ 

Scorpius looked down. ‘I believe you,’ he muttered. 

‘Good.’ Draco shifted his weight. ‘Hogwarts was chosen because Britain is the most anti-dark magic nation in the world. If even Hogwarts could be hit, anywhere could be hit. Its security measures also made it unlikely the plague would run rampant. Thane was hired by the Council for the operation, and as the world panicked over the possible source of Phlegethon, the Council of Thorns revealed itself and capitalised on the terror.’ 

‘Thane said Phlegethon was meant to be cured -’ 

‘Raskoph predicted that it _could_ be cured within a certain time-frame. He didn’t predict it would be virulent enough for there to be losses, which is how he managed to sway the British members of the Council of Thorns. Ironically, Nathalie Lockett’s efforts to save lives ended them, but her _extensive_ research in Phlegethon also meant the world was better-prepared to fight against Eridanos. But I’m getting ahead of myself.’ 

‘And,’ said Rose tartly, ‘we know most of this.’ 

‘I have to explain from the beginning,’ said Draco, ‘or none of this will make sense.’ 

‘It’ll make sense. But I’m not sure,’ said Rose, ‘how you signing up with an international group of dark wizard terrorists is ever going to be _justified._ _’_   
  
Scorpius reached for her hand. ‘Rose.’ 

Draco watched her for a moment, but she fell silent, and he nodded. ‘I tried to get you out of Hogwarts, Scorpius, and did what I could with the Council of Thorns. There’s a problem with backing a group like that: it’s terribly hard to back _out_. And they were heavily factionalised, as you know. Krauser was a good friend, a _sensible_ man, and knew the value of fear over actual violence. Horn was less kind, and then there was Raskoph. The rising star, and the man who had given the Council of Thorns the weapon that _made_ them. It was to Krauser I turned when I thought Raskoph had killed you all on Kythos.’ 

‘Yes, yes. You were stuck with them because if you _stopped_ paying them, they’d reveal how you’d backed them in the first place.’ Scorpius looked up and met his father’s gaze, and forced steel into his heart. ‘So why did you tell them we had the Chalice of Emrys and were in Venice? I sent you the letter and you -’ 

Draco looked away at that. ‘I didn’t. I told someone who had a vested interest. I thought we were of a similar mindset. I was wrong.’ 

‘Stop being coy.’ Scorpius clenched his jaw. ‘We can do this two ways: either - either you come clean, either you _tell me_ what’s going on, or we’ll cart you back and let the DMLE rip all the bloody information out of your mind! About the Council, about Thane, about _you_ , about Mum -’ 

Draco’s brow furrowed. ‘What _about_ your mother?’ 

‘Don’t lie to me!’ He half-stood, but Rose put a hand on his arm, and he froze, clutching the edge of the table. The words tumbled from him like pebbles before an avalanche, and his gaze remained locked on his father’s slate-grey eyes. ‘I _know_ she was involved in the Council, too.’ 

His father shook his head. ‘Your mother set up a charity after you died to try to fight the Council. I dare say Raskoph and others want to get their hands on her to try to get to you or to _me_. But she’s never had anything to do with the Council of Thorns. I would know.’ 

‘I was told - when I was brought back, when I came _back_ through the Veil, I was told she was there -’ 

Draco lifted a hand. ‘Sit down,’ he said, and for the first time Scorpius could hear the waver in that calm, commanding voice, hear the edge like a veneer peeling off. ‘Maybe I’ve not told you much you don’t know. But it must be fresh in your minds, before I explain the rest. The people who really betrayed you, and how, and why.’ Scorpius did sit, and his father leaned forwards, gaze firm. ‘I wasn’t there when you came back. But I know who was. Thane didn’t do it alone. There was someone else, someone who hated the Council but cared for you a great deal, and was brought in because they had the expertise and the brilliance and - dare I say it - the bloody-minded _selfishness_ to not care it would unleash Lethe upon the world. 

‘It wasn’t your mother, Scorpius. It was Nathalie Lockett.’

* * 

‘What’s going on up there?’ The guard to Niemandhorn’s dungeons had huge, scared eyes when Lockett burst through the door. She shouldn’t have been surprised at such a reaction, even from professionals. Who, after all, was supposed to attack the impenetrable fortress once the war was over? 

‘The Council,’ she said bluntly, looking down the long, white-walled corridor of cells. ‘Chairman Rourke sent me; we’ve got to move the high priority prisoners -’ 

The guard gaped. ‘The Council’s _beaten_. How’re they breaking into Niemandhorn? How’re they bypassing all the wards, the defences -’ 

Nat Lockett was a small woman, but she had a job to do and not enough time before it all went seriously wrong. The guard rocked back as he was grabbed by the lapels of his robe. ‘It’s Raskoph and maybe thirty Thornweavers. But they’ve got golems and they hijacked the Express and they’re breaking in, okay? It’s not fancy, it’s not clever, they’ve just got a magic resistant group that can hammer through wards and take the hits.’ 

‘But - but they can’t _win_ , can they? We’ve got too many defenders, and even if they overwhelm us, once we gather, once reinforcements get in -’ 

‘Haven’t you noticed? The Council of Thorns lost this war _last week_. Of course they can’t win, or they’d have done this before now. They’ll get stopped.’ Lockett’s jaw set. ‘But they could kill a whole _lot_ of people before that happens. And some of these prisoners have _vital_ information. So get your keys out.’ 

The guard gawped for a full five seconds before he fumbled for the ring of keys on his belt. ‘Maybe you should barricade down here. You can’t march all of them out.’ 

‘I don’t need them all. I just need Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘You -’ The guard stared at Lockett. Then down at his keys. 

Then Lockett Stunned him and snatched the keys before the guard hit the ground. ‘I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that,’ she groaned. As she hurried down the corridor, she counted off the crooks through the barred doors. 

_Mass murderer, corrupt official, ugh, Geiger -_   
  
‘ _Darling_.’ Thane was already stood with his hands on the bars when she got there, voice light, gaze serious. ‘I knew you’d come for me. I knew you couldn’t stay away -’ 

Her lip curled. ‘Shut up.’ 

‘You’ll never keep a man with an attitude like that.’ 

Lockett rammed the key in the lock and swallowed down the familiar cocktail of bile and self-loathing. ‘We have to get out of here, or Raskoph _is_ going to come for you.’ 

‘I didn’t know you cared.’ Thane watched as the barred door swung open. 

‘You know I don’t. I just don’t want to swing in the gallows _next_ to you.’ 

‘Your capacity for enlightened self-interest remains _fascinating_.’ Thane slid into the corridor, not at all reduced by his time in captivity. Still was every motion perfect, deliberate; still was he tall and willowy and moving like a dancer who could kill you. ‘The escape plan’s the same?’ 

She watched him take up the guard’s wand, then turned to the dungeon door. ‘On the north tower. You know where we’re going?’ 

‘No. I know where _I_ _’m_ going.’ 

Magic slammed into her lower back from behind and she fell before she knew what was happening. The world spun, all dazzling silver light on white stone, before it exploded with the pain of her head dashing against the paving stones. Then came the creeping cold of the frozen fortress, the sticky heat of blood ebbing out from her, the throbbing agony in her lower back and numbness in her legs. 

Shadows fell from Prometheus Thane picking across her body. He paused for either a heartbeat or a lifetime, and the two were one and the same as she tried to find strength, wits, the capacity to _move_. 

‘I’m very sorry, my dear.’ He sounded, she thought, if she could think, genuine. ‘I always admired your dedication. But you’re a loose end, and _I_ don’t want to swing in the gallows next to _you_.’ 

Then he left, footsteps ringing out on the cold paving stones of the frozen castle of Niemandhorn, and Nathalie Lockett lay on the chilled floor in a slowly growing pool of her own blood and her own sins back to haunt her.

* * 

‘Think about it,’ Draco said, and Rose tightened her grip on Scorpius’ arm. She could feel the tension under the skin, the familiar temper bubbling along with taut muscle. He’d never been the strongest of men, especially not when stood next to Albus, but anger roiled together with frustration and as his father talked, she wasn’t sure how this was going to end. ‘Who else understood the nature of life and death? Thane’s a smart man, but he’s no genius, no researcher. Bringing you back took enormous expense and vast searching, but it also took a world class mind. What other world class mind would _do_ that for you?’ 

She caught the flicker of Scorpius’ glance in her direction, and her lips thinned as she thought of de Sablé. _I don_ _’t know if I would have._   
  
_Probably._   
  
Scorpius ground his teeth together. ‘She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t unleash all that suffering, not for _me_.’ 

Rose thought of Nathalie Lockett, miserable and alone and trying to drag five children in her wake and save a school. She thought of Nathalie Lockett when Tim Warwick died, shouldering the burden and retreating; she thought of Nathalie Lockett when Methuselah Jones died, invoking his name even when she was given the Order of Merlin. Selena had carried Methuselah’s ghost and Scorpius had carried Tim’s and she, Rose, had carried Scorpius’. But Lockett was the one who’d carried each and every ghost with her until she was bent double with the burden of it. 

They’d stood in Hogsmeade, at the heart of the devastation, and Rose had unleashed all her anger on Lockett just to be told, in a calm and confident voice, that it was all going to be okay. 

_She knew. She fucking_ knew - 

‘She would,’ Rose found herself saying, squeezing Scorpius’ arm. ‘For you? She would.’ 

‘And she did,’ Draco continued. ‘The dates even match. She went missing not long after you died. She returned to the world not long after you came back. Of course, nobody thought anything of it, because nobody knew you were _alive_. All they thought was that the eccentric genius had yet again disappeared into a black hole of her own misery. It is, so I hear, what she does.’ He sipped his tea. 

Albus was frowning. ‘She can’t have been the one to betray us in Venice, though. She had no reason to, and she was still in the Americas. You said _you_ told the person who then told Thane -’ 

‘I did.’ Draco reached for the teapot. ‘And this is where it will, I hope, all make sense. I told someone I thought was like me, in over their head and trying to make the most of it, and scared of the consequences of their own actions. It turned out I was sharing delicate information with someone who wanted, above all, for the Council of Thorns to remain powerful and terrifying. Nothing breeds success like desperate times, especially not if you are the desperate measures.’ 

Scorpius scowled. ‘You need to cut to the chase. Who?’ 

Rose’s jaw dropped with the penny. ‘You _cannot_ be serious.’

* * 

When golems broke down the door and Thornweavers followed behind, throwing hexes and the odd Killing Curse around like murderous clowns with sweets, Selena felt no guilt in turning from the dining chamber and running like hell. 

‘Do we even _have_ a plan?’ Matt hurried beside her, wand in a tight, left-handed grip. She tried to not look too hard at his stance, at how he struggled to keep up. He still wasn’t recovered from the physical trauma, was still weaker than last time she’d seen him fight. 

And last she’d seen him fight, he’d been maimed. 

‘I was going with “running for our lives,”’ Selena hissed, trying to remember the best ways deeper into Niemandhorn. ‘They can’t win, they’re going to be beaten, either by our defenders or by reinforcements. We just have to _survive_.’ 

Matt’s prosthetic grabbed her arm and pulled her around into an alcove. ‘Then stop, Selena, _think_. What do they want? What’s their priority going to be?’ 

‘I don’t care; I don’t want to _stop_ them, we’re not the _heroes_ , Matt -’ 

‘Maybe not! So let’s hide somewhere that’s _not_ a mission priority!’ 

‘Okay, so logical thought _can_ benefit cowardice.’ Selena’s lips twisted with wry self-awareness, and she gripped his hand to centre herself, stared into his eyes as she thought. Not only was he calm, focused, but he was a distraction from the sounds behind them, the screams and explosions and shattering of rock and bursts of magic. Those she had to block out, ignore, if she could think about what the Council of Thorns would want to strike in their last, desperate - 

‘ _Shit._ Mum.’ 

Matt hesitated. ‘Where is she?’ 

‘In her office; I was going to meet her before lunch - Matt, they’ll go for her. Raskoph hates her, he’s going to _kill_ her -’ 

‘She’ll be surrounded by the _best_ bodyguards in the business -’ 

‘I don’t _care_.’ Cowardice was beaten again by bitter experience that nobody else in the world could be trusted to look after their loved ones. ‘We’ve got to get up there.’ 

Matt let out a long breath, but she saw something spark in his eyes; a fresh determination, a fresh purpose. _He hates running_ , she realised. ‘Then let’s go. By the _back_ way.’ 

They bolted out of the alcove to run, which meant they almost sprinted flat into Eva Saida and Selena almost blew her head off. ‘Merlin’s tits!’ 

Magic rippled around Eva, a shield she’d summoned by instinct, but she lowered her wand with a sigh of relief when she realised who it was. ‘Hell’s teeth. You move fast.’ 

‘I do when Nazis want me dead,’ Selena agreed. ‘What’re _you_ doing here?’ 

‘I was still in the hearing when the attack happened. Guards are getting the VIPs somewhere safe. I came looking for _you_!’ 

‘Aww.’ Selena cocked her head to one side. ‘You _do_ care.’ 

Eva grabbed her sleeve. ‘You’re probably a _target_ , Rourke. The Chairman’s daughter.’ 

Selena wrinkled her nose. ‘Ew. Didn’t think of that. But you know who’s a bigger target? My mother.’ 

‘Your mother’s going to be surrounded by the best and brightest -’ 

‘And of _course_ Raskoph’s attacked with no plan of how to get to her.’ She set her jaw. ‘The office is two floors up. I’m going. You can come with me or I can Stun you and you can bitch about it later -’ 

‘Well, let’s be real, you can’t Stun me,’ said Eva, wand still in a perfectly poised guard. ‘But, _fine_ , let’s go find your mother. The stairway back here’s been collapsed, but I have an idea.’ 

Selena and Matt followed as Eva led them around a corner, then kicked open a door to an empty office. This one faced an exterior wall, the huge windows gleaming with the bright winter sun of the Alps. At this side of the castle they couldn’t see the train tracks, the devastation of the platform, the chaos of the last march of the Council of Thorns. It almost looked peaceful. 

Except for the sounds of battle behind them, and the blast of magic as Eva shattered the windows. ‘We’re almost two floors directly below your mother’s office,’ she said, ‘if I recall correctly. So the most direct way is up.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ said Selena. 

Matt pursed his lips and looked at his hand, but before he could say the words that already had Selena’s heart lurching, there was a bellow from outside. 

‘You in there! We heard the blast. Come out with your wand lowered and surrender and we may be merciful!’ 

_Merciful_. The IMC wouldn’t need to be so reassuring. Selena drew a low, hissing breath. ‘Shit.’ 

‘Quite.’ Eva slid to the door and grabbed a piece of shattered glass. A quick spell made it more reflective, and she poked it into the corridor, low. ‘Six Thornweavers. Two golems.’ 

‘We can take them.’ 

‘Like hell we can.’ Eva’s expression was set. ‘We _can_ leave and live to fight another day.’ 

Matt’s fingers wrapped around his wand. ‘Except if they come in, look out the window, spot you on the walls, you’re sitting ducks to be blasted.’ 

Selena bit her lip. ‘I don’t like that “ _you_ ” -’ 

He rounded on her, grey eyes steely. ‘I’m not sure I can climb that _at all_ ,’ he said, voice the low rumble she usually associated with his bitter self-pity, but now had a shot of iron running through it she wasn’t sure she’d heard before. Oddly, Eva looked like this was all-too familiar. ‘And at best I’ll slow you down.’ 

‘Oh no - no, you don’t get a heroic sacrifice -’ _Not you. Not again._   
  
But her objection was cut off when he grabbed her arm, pulled her in for a swift, fervent kiss. She barely had a heartbeat to clutch at him before he let her go and stepped away. ‘I was planning on surrendering,’ Matt said, corner of his lip curling. ‘Eventually.’ 

‘Don’t -’ 

Selena lunged, but Eva snatched her arm, dragged her towards the window. ‘You want to save your mother,’ she hissed, ‘then we need to _go_.’ 

Matt nodded to Eva, a look of accord passing between them, before his eyes landed back on Selena. ‘No time to waste,’ he said, looked like he might say something else - then he went, storming for the door, wand held low in his left hand as magical protections began to swirl around him. 

It was either fight and lose beside him, or run and leave him. And Eva’s iron-tight grip on her arm didn’t give her much choice until she was at the window, the sounds of exploding magic bursting from the corridor, and Selena’s breath caught in her throat. He was already out there, fighting, _maybe_ to eventually surrender, _maybe_ to eventually live. They didn’t have much time. 

Heart almost choking her, she swung out the window and onto the ledge of ice-white masonry and blasts of whipping, frozen wind. ‘Let’s go.’ 

The going was easier than it might have been, because Niemandhorn Castle was not, despite appearances, actually made of ice. Long-enchanted stone had taken on the white, frosted appearance, but their grip was firm and the masonry itself rough enough to give footholds, handholds. Eva’s wand whipped out to grant some minor levitations, minor buoyancy to aid their progress, and onwards they climbed. 

Wind howled around them, tugging at their hair like a lover asking them them to submit to a frozen embrace and fall together, but Selena gritted her teeth and kept her gaze upward. Up, away from the danger, away from the fall, away from _Matt_. Up, where she could see the balcony she knew led out from her mother’s office, and if she just climbed, climbed, _climbed_ , she’d be there - 

Her foot slipped, the frozen wind tried to claim her, but then Eva’s hand was at her elbow, steadying her. 

_Onward_. 

When they made it to the railing of the balcony, all they could do was swing over the bar and collapse on the other side, gasping for breath, clutching at the floor like it could anchor them to the world forever, and not the frozen oblivion that had awaited them below if they made a misstep. 

‘This is it,’ Selena gasped, lifting her head to the glass balcony doors. Long curtains were pulled half-closed, such that they couldn’t see much inside. She clawed to her feet, stumbled to pull the balcony door open, went to push the curtain to one side - 

Then Eva grabbed her by the waist and slammed her against the wall outside. ‘ _Shh_ -’ 

Just as the main door to her mother’s office was shoved open by Prometheus Thane. ‘Madam Chairman; it’s been a while.’ 

Selena wriggled indignantly in Eva’s grip. _That_ _’s my mother, that’s_ Thane _, what_ _’re you doing_ \- But she saw Eva’s grip on her wand, saw the set of Eva’s jaw, and understood. If Prometheus Thane was here, he was best fought in an ambush, at the opportune moment. Trying to not seethe, Selena slid along the wall to the balcony door, peered through the glass inside the office. Thane was as she remembered him, storming in like he was due an important business meeting with her mother, not like he’d broken out of prison to go on a murder spree. Then she saw her mother’s expression. Surprised, certainly. But cautious, not shocked, not afraid, not _hostile._   
  
_What_ _’s…_   
  
Lillian Rourke pushed to her feet. ‘We have no time for games, Prometheus. We have to get out of here.’ 

‘I quite agree. I didn’t note your bodyguards.’ 

‘I sent them to the lower levels. They wouldn’t understand.’ 

Prometheus Thane gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I imagine they wouldn’t. Is the escape route intact?’ 

‘North Tower. Where’s Lockett?’ 

The smile didn’t shift. ‘She fell behind.’ 

Selena watched her mother hesitate for a moment - then she plucked her wand off her desk and slid it into her robes. ‘A pity,’ she said, and crossed the office to join Prometheus Thane. ‘But, perhaps, for the best. Might I recommend you pretend to take me hostage if we run into trouble?’ 

‘I was thinking,’ said Thane, gesturing to the door, ‘of _blasting_ trouble, should we find it. But your wish is my command. I’m here to play the villain, after all.’ 

Selena didn’t move - but neither did Eva, despite her poise, despite her readiness to lunge at Thane for an ambush. They were too shocked, too exhausted, to do anything but lurk at the balcony and watch as Lillian Rourke, Chairman of the International Magical Convocation, left her office quite contentedly in the armed company of Prometheus Thane. 


	51. One Will in Everything

‘Lillian Rourke,’ said Draco Malfoy, sipping from his refilled teacup, ‘backed the Council of Thorns since the earliest days. She used her influence as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to secretly funnel them resources. She wasn’t in charge, of course, because even she would not have signed off on something as desperate and deadly as the Phlegethon outbreak in Hogwarts, not in her own front yard and risking her own daughter. No, back then, Krauser and Horn and the others were all still calling the shots, and even if she propped them up, there was only _so far_ she could steer them.’ 

‘What?’ Albus looked bewildered. ‘ _Why_?’ 

Scorpius swallowed, throat dry. ‘Because the world panicked at the idea of an international cabal of dark wizards. And when someone suggested a strong alliance to oppose them -’ 

‘Everyone fell into step.’ Draco frowned. ‘Eventually. Over time. You remember how much bickering and in-fighting the IMC had in its early days. It’s why _you_ went after Prometheus Thane; the IMC was too busy arguing about the sovereignty of the member nations to get together and hunt him down. That wasn’t even Lillian Rourke trying to protect him. That was _exactly_ the sort of idiocy Rourke has _despised_.’ 

Scorpius leaned forwards. ‘Lillian Rourke supported the Council of Thorns so she could get rid of _bureaucracy_?’ 

‘You’d have to ask her. The fact remains that as the Council grew more powerful, so did Lillian. She _tried_ to stop you going after Thane. But at that juncture, neither Thane nor Raskoph _knew_ of her involvement in the Council of Thorns; only the upper echelons were aware. So her daughter was as valid a target as anyone else in Kythos, in the eyes of Joachim Raskoph. This did, however, prompt a change in Lillian: she approached Prometheus Thane directly.’ 

‘He _knew_?’ 

‘By the time you’d acquired the Chalice, yes. Which I didn’t know until _after_ I received your letter, until _after_ I told her the five of you had the Chalice of Emrys and would be back after an overnight stop in Venice.’ Draco’s lips thinned as he pushed his teacup back. ‘ _Granger_ never told us a thing she didn’t have to, not after Kythos. She didn’t trust me, and I think she didn’t trust Lillian’s staff. We both knew the other had ties to the Council by then, but I thought she was _exploiting_ the situation, not _driving_ it. I didn’t think she’d be mad enough to hurl her own daughter into the firing line. But as it turned out, she had Thane under her control by then. And Thane could give her both things she wanted: assurances her daughter would remain unharmed, and Lethe unleashed, in the world, and in the hands of Raskoph.’ 

‘Why,’ said Rose, ‘would she want it in Raskoph’s hands?’ 

‘I’ll get to that,’ Draco assured her. ‘Because it didn’t work. Scorpius died, and he took the Chalice and Lethe with him. You remember the last two and a half years; the Council’s been reduced by in-fighting and a lack of resources and been slowly strangled. Until the fresh outbreak of Lethe, it dwindled into nothing, and the IMC dwindled into a group of busybodies tidying up their mess.’ 

‘So she was _insane_ enough to want the Council back to consolidate her power?’ she scowled. 

‘I can only theorise as to her reasons.’ Draco shrugged. ‘What I know for sure is that _she_ recruited Nathalie Lockett to Project Osiris, though I only found out about it later. I thought I’d lost my son to a bitter cause that had fallen out of my control. I truly knew nothing until Lillian Rourke contacted me in January, informing me that Scorpius was alive, that Lethe and the Chalice had been recovered, and that the plan was resuming.’ 

‘Why did Thane break me out, then?’ said Scorpius, brow furrowed. 

‘Thane was, _is_ , Lillian’s creature, but Raskoph didn’t know that. Raskoph had no reason to keep you alive once he had the Chalice and Lethe. Thane breaking you out and going rogue served several purposes. The first was to keep you safe. The second was to keep you in Lillian’s clutches, at Lillian and Thane’s mercy, so I would do _exactly_ what they wanted.’ 

‘Which was?’ 

‘Help them ship Lethe abroad and into every major magical nation.’ Draco shrugged as if this were a favour akin to trimming the garden hedge. ‘Which I did, because I knew, by then, Lillian wouldn’t hesitate to destroy you. To keep you alive, I had to remain cooperative and _valuable_.’ 

‘Okay.’ Scorpius wrung his hands together. ‘That makes sense. But then why was Thane _attacking_ the Council of - oh.’ 

Rose looked at him. ‘Oh?’ 

‘We attacked the Council of Thorns. We helped kill Krauser, Horn, all the others. It’s like Castagnary said.’ Scorpius’ lips twisted. ‘We wiped out the leadership of the Council of Thorns, but the one man we couldn’t take down was Raskoph. I thought that was just a misstep, that we got unlucky, but what if it wasn’t? I’d thought we’d been crippling the Council, but all we did was remove the dissenting voices, wasn’t it? All we did was eradicate Raskoph’s rivals.’ 

‘Even Raskoph didn’t know that Thane, by taking you and going rogue and working for Lillian, was doing him the greatest favour possible,’ said Draco dryly. ‘Yes, Lillian backstabbed Raskoph by stealing you. But then she propped him up and made _damned_ sure that he would be the last man standing, with the whole Council of Thorns behind him and Lethe under his control, poised to be used against the whole world.’ 

Albus raised an eyebrow. ‘Why?’ 

Draco’s lips twisted just as dryly as his son’s. ‘Because Horn and Krauser were vicious men, but they preferred the Stygian Plagues as _threats_. Phlegethon was a clumsy virus, but it only claimed two lives and _still_ struck terror into the hearts of the world. Eridanos was used on _isolated_ locations, again to invoke fear. If the Council had claimed Lethe in Ager Sanguinis as planned, maybe they could have maintained this restraint. But the Council had been nothing for eighteen months by the time Lethe fell back into their hands. To be a real danger to the world, big enough to catapult the IMC back into the limelight, they needed to be huge. _Monstrous_. And the biggest monster amongst them was, and always has been, Joachim Raskoph.’ 

‘So the world united behind her.’ Scorpius rumbled, hoarse and tense. ‘Against him.’ 

‘Raskoph is very smart in some ways, and very foolish in others,’ said Draco. ‘He’s known, since Thane absconded with you, that Thane works for Lillian and that Lillian double-crossed him. They spent long months appearing to cooperate, because Lillian still _helped_ him get Lethe into place. Hostilities only formally opened between them on the night of the Lethe outbreaks, because that was when Raskoph moved against Lillian for the first time.’ 

‘ _That_ _’s_ why he abducted Selena!’ said Rose. 

‘Oh,’ said Scorpius, more sickened. ‘That’s why we were in Hogsmeade. Thane made sure I heard the Council’s plan. He _knew_ I’d want to save Selena, so he let me think it was my idea, my operation. But it wasn’t; we were trying to save Selena for Lillian Rourke.’ 

Draco inclines his head. ‘Very likely.’ 

‘That’s why he agreed to cooperate in Rotterdam.’ Scorpius pressed his hands to his temples. ‘Especially with a lead not just on Raskoph, but the Chalice. I wondered why he was being so bloody _altruistic_ as to risk his freedom for Selena and the Chalice of Emrys, but he wasn’t being altruistic, was he?’ 

‘No,’ said Draco. ‘I expect Raskoph trying to abduct Selena made it clear to Lillian that she couldn’t keep on playing him. She had to go full offensive, and that meant she needed her daughter safe and she needed the Chalice of Emrys if she didn’t want Lethe taking over the whole world.’ 

‘Thane did almost get away in Saint Annard,’ Rose pointed out. ‘He couldn’t have anticipated he’d be incapacitated as badly as he was, or that I’d Stun you both.’ 

‘But he and Lillian were ready for the possibility he’d be brought in,’ sighed Albus. ‘Because what happened when he was interrogated? He was given Veritaserum - Veritaserum brewed by _Nathalie Lockett_ , who had _every_ bloody reason to feed him a duff batch, else _her_ involvement would come out. He could feed us what lies suited him, suited them all.’ 

‘I dare say that was why I warned by my contacts in the British Ministry that Scorpius and Thane had been brought into DMLE custody,’ said Draco wryly. ‘They needed someone to take the fall for everything, like the betrayal at Venice. But I had no reason to keep my mouth shut about Lillian. So they made sure I was warned, and I ran, like they wanted me to.’ He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t win. Either I protected them by protecting myself, or I condemned them by condemning myself. This was better.’ 

‘So at that point,’ said Rose, ‘Lillian had a Council of Thorns at the height of its vicious power, killing hundreds of people and seizing magical governments, and the International Magical Convocation rallying behind her to oppose them. But she _also_ had the Chalice of Emrys in the hands of Lockett, of my mother.’ 

‘She presumably hoped that you could do exactly what you did: cure Lethe, but not so quickly that the IMC wasn’t giving her every iota of power it could scrabble. And I dare say you kept to schedule, considering she managed to seize power in Britain before the end. I assume you haven’t heard the news, seeing as you spent last night halfway up a mountain?’ They shook their heads, and Draco sighed. ‘Lillian declared the IMC will _not_ be disbanded. It will continue, the magical governments of the world forever cooperating, united. You know, under _her_. She’s done it. She’s won.’ 

Scorpius slammed his hands on the desk. ‘You have to come back with us. You have to tell -’ 

‘My story?’ Draco scoffed. ‘You think I stand the _remotest_ chance of surviving long enough in Britain? All I can do is tell people. Yes, there are financial records and paper trails, but those will take time to unravel.’ 

‘We bring you to my mother,’ said Rose, jaw tight. ‘And to Harry. And by the IMC’s own laws, we can implicate Lillian and subject _her_ to Veritaserum, to Legilimency -’ 

‘After we’re confirming to the world that one batch of Veritaserum was faked, there are going to be a _lot_ of questions asked about how viable such evidence is.’ Draco shook his head. ‘Trusting your parents to be neutral arbiters is a _delightful_ idea, except I know how Lillian will turn it on its head. Do you think she has a _single_ rival as dangerous as your mother? Do you think she will even _hesitate_ to suggest this is all a ploy for Hermione Granger to undermine and replace her, and while the world dithers over believing Rourke or Granger, Malfoy or Thane, she will _continue_ to destroy all tangible evidence.’ 

‘Maybe we seize Raskoph, too,’ said Albus. 

Draco gave a bark of humourless laughter. ‘And the world will _rush_ to believe Joachim Raskoph. Why do you think he never tried to publicly out Lillian? Even a madman like him knows it would get him nowhere. Especially as he had very few direct dealings with her. She didn’t just kill the rest of the Council of Thorns’ leadership to raise Raskoph as a perfect, hissable villain; she killed them because _they knew about her_. She had Thane kill them to tidy loose ends.’ 

‘I don’t care,’ snapped Scorpius. ‘She did this, she _made this happen_. We’d have made it home with the Chalice if it weren’t for her. Lethe wouldn’t have been unleashed without her; she needs to be _stopped_ -’ 

‘You need to _prove_ it, Scorpius,’ said Draco. ‘And maybe I could _try_ to unravel everything, but…’ 

‘But _what_? Why won’t you even _try_?’ 

Draco drew a deep breath, and looked his son in the eye. ‘Because my father died in prison,’ he said in a slow, measured voice. ‘And that’s a family tradition I’d rather _both_ of us were spared.’ 

Scorpius slumped back, and it was Albus who straightened, Albus who spoke in that firm, reassuring voice which could make anyone do what he wanted because they didn’t dare risk disappointing him. ‘Mister Malfoy, this is different. You’ve not been personally murdering people. If the worst you did for the Council of Thorns was under threat of your son’s _murder_ , then that will be taken into account. The world is smart enough and kind enough to understand.’ 

Draco narrowed his eyes. ‘You and I, Potter, have a very _different_ idea of the world and its _kindness_.’ 

‘I have one more question,’ said Rose, brow furrowed. ‘Cassian Malfoy?’ 

Draco sighed. ‘I had occasional interactions with Raskoph. Not many. It became apparent that he _hated_ me, and I honestly had no idea why. I’m normally so very _charming_.’ 

Scorpius had to roll his eyes. ‘But it was because of Cassian, wasn’t it. That’s why he wanted to create Lethe in me; some last, petty vengeance.’ 

His father shrugged. ‘I wanted any possible upper hand I could find. So I began researching Raskoph’s history, his work for Grindelwald. It was long and arduous and very difficult to find _anything_ specific. The information was out there, the Magical Alliance had him very well assessed, but I was not exactly the man they would release information to. The only thing I could find was a mention in some old _Russian_ magical archives; a mission report from an agent of theirs in the Grindelwald war who fought Raskoph with the aid of an Alliance agent referred to only as Malfoy.’ 

‘So you didn’t know for sure,’ said Scorpius. 

‘I knew it wasn’t my grandfather,’ said Draco. ‘He was never involved. The only other candidate was Cassian. I found this not very long before the Lethe attack, so I was still gathering information at the time. Cassian’s personal effects in storage, I even visited his so-called sarcophagus at the family tomb; he wasn’t buried there, of course, because we didn’t find a body, but I’d wondered if Abraxas had known something… there was nothing there, though.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘ _That_ _’s_ what you were doing that day I ran into you at the graveyard. I thought you went in a different direction to Scorpius’ gravestone -’ 

‘I was investigating. I never found anything on him before I had to go -’ 

But before he could press on, a waiter appeared at the side of the screen, different to the one who’d brought them their tea and judiciously realised they wouldn’t want any actual lunch. He hurried to Draco’s side and leaned down to whisper in his ear. Draco, for his part, didn’t move, seeming unperturbed by this sudden familiarity - but his expression did tense, and he sat with a taut jaw until the waiter left. 

‘Well,’ he said at length in response to the curious stares. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised something like this has happened.’ 

‘Something like _what_?’ 

‘I have no doubt we’d learn this if we turned on the radio,’ sighed Draco, ‘as it seems to be hitting public knowledge. Niemandhorn Castle is under attack by the remains of the Council of Thorns. The entire place is on lockdown, and it’s impossible for reinforcements to get there in anything under a six-hour journey through the mountains.’ He slumped back on his chair. ‘I should have known Raskoph wouldn’t take defeat lightly. He’s lost, and he knows he’s lost, but…’ 

‘But why do _this_?’ Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘He wasn’t found, he could go into hiding.’ 

Scorpius scowled. ‘Except he did that once before, didn’t he. After Grindelwald lost. Maybe he doesn’t have it in him to do it again.’ 

‘Maybe he’d rather cause as much bloodshed before the end,’ said Albus, shoulders taut. 

‘Not just bloodshed,’ said Draco Malfoy, brow furrowed. ‘He knows he’s lost. But there’s one last victory he can claim by attacking Niemandhorn, the IMC, Lillian Rourke. It’s simple, really: revenge.’

* * 

‘I don’t understand,’ Selena was babbling over and over, while everything was becoming _very_ clear for Eva indeed. 

‘There has to be something written here,’ she muttered as she rooted through Lillian Rourke’s desk. Lillian and Thane were gone and the sounds of fighting beyond the door were distant, muffled. The battle across Niemandhorn hadn’t yet reached this wing of the castle. It was likely the defenders were trying to protect their Chairman. 

‘How can she be working with Thane? _Why_? Maybe she hired him, just to make an escape -’ 

‘That makes no sense.’ Eva looked up from the papers, none of which detailed diabolical plans of world domination or maps to secret escape routes from the castle. ‘What makes _more_ sense is that Thane _always_ talked about someone in the Council of Thorns he answered to who wasn’t Raskoph. Somebody ordered him to give over the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts. And that Thane was following orders from someone _else_ is far more believable than that he had a change of heart and went rogue to fight the Council. _If_ he’d had a change of heart, he’d have disappeared.’ 

Selena stood in the middle of the office, wrung her hands together, and stared at Eva. ‘You’re saying my mother -’ Then she stopped and bit her lip. ‘But Thane was given Veritaserum -’ 

‘Brewed by Lockett, and he just implied they were in it together. It’s like I always said: the only way around Veritaserum is to _not drink Veritaserum_. So he drank a fake, pointed the finger at Draco Malfoy, and nobodyhad any reason to look for someone behind the curtain.’ Eva’s jaw set. ‘Someone who stood to emerge from this war as leader of the wizarding world.’ 

‘ _Shit_.’ Selena drew a low, hissing breath. ‘She can’t be that mad - it’s not - _shit_ -’ 

Eva watched her and wondered if this was the moment she was supposed to be sympathetic. It wasn’t that she was unmoved, but Eva had no idea how to relate to someone’s parental woes at the best of times. Saying, ‘Sorry your mother turned out to be head of a global murder conspiracy,’ would be apt, so these were _not_ the best of times. ‘Only question now is what we do?’ 

‘ _Do?_ Why should we _do_ -’ Selena stopped and stared at the door. ‘We left Matt. So we could get her safe.’ 

‘We did.’ 

‘And now she’s gone on the run because it looks like Raskoph’s after her. She’s _abandoned_ all of us. After betraying us. _With_ Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘Also true.’ 

Eva knew what it was like when the world’s pains were so intense that the only option was to go away inside. She’d done it enough times. Watching Selena was the first time she saw someone else do it. Pretty features went slack and cold, slumped shoulders straightened, and her wand slid into a white-knuckled grip. 

Selena Rourke looked to the door. ‘North Tower. Let’s get them.’ 

Eva shrugged and pulled her own wand. ‘When you say, “get”…’ 

‘Stop.’ A muscle twitched in the corner of Selena’s jaw. ‘Or, stop my mother. I don’t _care_ what you do to Prometheus Thane, so long as he gets his as the end of the day.’ 

‘That much,’ sighed Eva, ‘I can agree with.’ 

The fighting was louder when they burst into the corridor. IMC defenders were being beaten, downtrodden under the onslaught from golems, who could take all their magics and still keep coming. So Eva used her best judgement in ducking from corridor to corridor, trying to compromise between speed and safety. Wide open spaces and chambers were a great way to get spotted. Narrow passageways were great places to get trapped like rats in a barrel. 

A corner before a stairway brought the sound of shattering masonry from ahead, and Eva grabbed Selena, slamming them both against the wall and into cover. ‘Let’s go another way,’ Eva muttered. ‘We can’t take a golem.’ 

‘Don’t you have Matt’s sword?’ Selena hissed. 

‘Yeah - they _totally_ let me go into my judicial hearing with a _broadsword_. It’s in his room. This isn’t even my wand.’ She’d taken it off a body, but Selena didn’t need to know that. Eva was used to going through wands. 

‘Isthere another stairway up?’ 

‘I don’t know…’ Eva looked back the way they’d come, just as Selena slipped past her to peer around the corner ahead. The sound of shattering stone was just fading, but they hadn’t heard heavy footsteps of a departing golem, and Eva was unsure how good the senses of those magical constructs were. Her knowledge extended as far as changing the writing on their paper for whose orders they followed. And the golems had all been still and inanimate in Ager Sanguinis before she’d deployed them as a distraction. And she’d only known _that_ because she’d heard Raskoph’s preening about the constructs in Badenheim. Finer details were beyond her. 

‘Oh!’ Eva spun at Selena’s startled exclamation, and her heart tried to punch out of her chest as she saw Selena round the corner into the open. But there came no stomping golem, and Selena wasn’t turned into paste. ‘Harley!’ 

Eva followed with a suspicious gaze to see the House Elf stood over the shattered remains of what had once been a golem, and decided she didn’t want to know. 

Harley looked up, chest heaving. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ 

‘War,’ Selena said helpfully. 

‘Council of Thorns,’ Eva added. 

‘Right. I was up late. Only just heading for breakfast when this happened.’ Harley rubbed his forehead like he was nursing a hangover, though Eva noted he’d still donned a well-tailored suit. ‘What’re _you_ doing here?’ 

Selena worked her jaw, so Eva stepped up. ‘Prometheus Thane’s taken Chairman Rourke and is trying to make a getaway at the North Tower. We’re in pursuit.’ 

‘Damn,’ decided Harley. ‘That shouldn’t -’ The spiral stairway behind him wound up and down, and he stopped as from below came the thudding, shuddering footsteps of rock on rock. He swore again. ‘More company. You better go get the Chairman. I’ve got this.’ 

Selena hopped from foot to foot. ‘Are you sure -’ 

‘He’s better at this than us,’ Eva said firmly, and once again grabbed Selena’s elbow. ‘We want to catch up with Thane and your Mum, we’d better move fast.’ 

The only good news was that Thane would probably also be targeted by the golems, and Selena Rourke certainly would. But Eva had no doubt he’d make it to his destination with himself and his charge in one piece; she had yet to see an enemy who could stop Prometheus Thane in his tracks. 

And yet that was entirely what she was going to have to try to be.

* * 

The sun blazed down on the lawn in front of the Azure Skies Hotel, a bright Sri Lankan mid-afternoon with a warmth Scorpius couldn’t feel. Not when the far side of the world was burning. Not when Albus and Rose were embroiled in such agitated fear, frustration, and rage. 

‘We _cannot_ do nothing!’ snapped Albus, throwing his hands in the air. The news was filtering through the hotel by now. The four of them had left the dining room, because they weren’t having a quiet conversation about plots of world domination any more, but arguing about how to _stop_ it. ‘ _Everyone_ is there, Rose! Maybe our parents, certainly Selena and Matt and _Eva_!’ 

‘I don’t see,’ said Scorpius unhappily, ‘what the hell we can do about it. We’re several hours’ hike back to magical civilisation -’ 

‘No,’ said Rose, pacing and chewing on her hair, a habit he hadn’t seen her descend to even in the depths of unravelling the ritual to destroy the Chalice. ‘The excess of magical energies make it unsafe to Apparate _to_ these mountains; if I had a precise enough pin on an external location, I could get us back to Kandy in a heartbeat. It’s a long way away, but that’s not a problem; I’d be harnessing the magic energies here because I’d be next to them. They can augment an outgoing Apparition or Portkey, while they’d disrupt anything inbound -’ 

‘Great,’ said Scorpius, and bit his lip when Albus _glared_ at him for the sarcasm. That was, perhaps, the moment he knew things were really serious. He lifted his hands. ‘But then we’re in Kandy and we’re _still_ waiting on a Portkey to get us back to Europe, and we’re not going to be top of the priority list when the IMC is in turmoil! And that won’t be a direct Portkey to Switzerland, it’ll be to Britain or _maybe_ Venice. What do we do then? Start flying or walking to Niemandhorn? It’s _difficult as hell_ to get there except by train; that’s part of what makes it so defensible! Enemies aren’t supposed to _get_ to there, which apparently makes getting reinforcements _hell_.’ 

‘He’s right,’ said Draco. ‘You’d be expending enormous resources only to be stopped by the IMC personnel handling the reinforcements. They wouldn’t let you join them even if you were stood by them this moment, and you can’t get _into_ Niemandhorn by yourselves.’ 

Albus clenched his hands into fists and glared at the horizon. ‘I refuse to stand here idly. There has to be something -’ 

‘There is.’ Rose had stopped, eyes widening, lock of hair falling. ‘There’s the ward stone I found on Cassian’s body. It’s an _Alliance security_ ward stone; it allowed him, as an Alliance agent, to bypass the protective magics around headquarters and get there discreetly and safely. Alliance headquarters was Niemandhorn Castle!’ 

Albus straightened. ‘You could use it to Apparate us _into_ the castle?’ 

‘It’s eighty years old,’ said Scorpius. ‘You’re assuming it still works and that the IMC haven’t, I don’t know, changed the locks -’ 

‘Why? The magics are old and powerful; I’m not sure the IMC _could_ meddle. And it’s worth a try!’ 

Scorpius sagged. ‘I hate to be the naysayer for once, but we’re _still_ banking on being able to Apparate to Kandy and _then_ get a Portkey back to Europe. Getting out of Kandy alone could take us to the end of the day even under _ideal_ circumstances; I bet there’ll be a transport lockdown in Europe!’ 

Draco let out a long, slow breath. ‘It’s possible,’ he said, ‘that I can help with that.’ All eyes turned on him, and he didn’t look directly at Scorpius as he said, ‘Miss Weasley is quite correct; the magic in these hilltops makes inbound magical travel very difficult, but it can _augment_ outbound travel. It’s why I came here. Anyone would have difficulty reaching me, but I have in my possession a Portkey to make an emergency getaway. This Portkey could easily get me as far as Switzerland. Or get _you_ as far as Switzerland.’ 

Albus rounded on him, six plus feet of solid muscle and anger. ‘Fetch it. _Now_.’ 

Draco didn’t falter, experienced at confronting a Potter’s anger. ‘By all means. And then you’ll be on your way.’ 

Scorpius’s head snapped up. ‘No way. You’re coming with us.’ 

Draco snorted faintly. ‘Why? Returning to Europe when Potter, Weasley and Granger will be racing to battle in Niemandhorn, or are _already there_ and might not live to see the end of the day sounds like the _worst_ time. The moment I show my face I will be thrown in a cell. You can’t protect me, and there is _no_ guarantee they will be able to protect me before Lillian Rourke has me _murdered_ before I can reveal her duplicity to the world. If I return with you in the present state of chaos, my death warrant is signed.’ 

‘Then wait here,’ said Albus. ‘And we’ll come back for you.’ 

Scorpius’s jaw tightened. ‘He won’t wait. The moment we go, he’ll just disappear again.’ 

‘I don’t _care_ ,’ snarled Albus. ‘We’ll hunt him down again -’ 

‘You are free,’ said Draco softly, ‘to try.’ 

‘No.’ Scorpius felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. ‘He’ll disappear even better. He’s getting really good at it.’ His wand slid from his sleeve into his hand, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d levelled it on his father. ‘Best thing to do is to Stun you, have Rose drag the location of the Portkey out of your mind, and bring you with us.’ 

Draco didn’t bat an eyelid as he looked down the length of the wand at his son. ‘My Occlumency is so proficient that even Severus Snape couldn’t break it. Do you really think nineteen years old Rose Weasley will be able to? And in time?’ 

Scorpius’ chest tightened. ‘She got through the Chief of Security of the Rabbit’s Foot -’ 

‘Over _several_ hours,’ said Rose. ‘Scorpius, we have to fight this one another day -’ 

‘That’s _easy_ for you to say!’ His own voice tore through him, shredding control and hope. ‘It’s not _your_ father who’s just confirmed he was - was _everything_ you were afraid he was, but wouldn’t even -’ 

The corners of Draco’s eyes crinkled. ‘You think I did this for _myself_ , Scorpius? You think I _wanted_ this?’ 

‘Of course you didn’t want to be cornered like this, but you still backed the Council, backed Lillian -’ 

‘My father turned the Malfoy name to _mud_!’ Draco snapped up straight like a reed in the wind, tall and quivering. ‘He helped Voldemort and he went to Azkaban and he _died_ there, and all _anyone_ in the world would think when they heard our name was of a family that _achieved_ nothing, were merely _given_ it and then turned _that_ to darkness!’ 

‘So you helped more dark wizards! Great idea!’ 

Draco’s nostrils flared, then he settled himself and spoke in a low voice that still held more emotion than any of his calm retelling so far. ‘I turned to people who thought _well_ of me for my name. And I _made_ something of the family. I built a global business these past twenty-five years. I brought _respectability_ back to the Malfoy name, and yes, I did it with the investment and political favour of the sort of people who backed the Council of Thorns, who _became_ the Council of Thorns. They helped me turn the Malfoy name into _something else_ , and so I _had_ to help them when the time came! And by the time I realised just how much devastation they would wreak, it was too late!’ 

‘Yes,’ sneered Scorpius, not caring that with his lip curled they were like shattered reflections of one another. ‘Because better for you to make the world worse than suffer the consequences of your actions.’ 

‘I _tried_ to stop! Why do you think so many of my businesses were shut down when Phlegethon ended? And when you died -’ Draco faltered only for a heartbeat, then drew a tense breath and discipline was back. ‘I removed myself from them. It only happened again because of Lillian, because of you; because she _used_ you. You were my _son_ and I had lost you and all it would take to get you back, _all it would take_ to keep you _safe_ , was to ship some _wretched containers_ across the world and then not think too hard -’ 

Then he was stumbling back, turning away and lifting a hand to his temples, and Scorpius felt the wand hang heavy in his hand as he watched his father - always so austere, superior, detached - fight, struggle, and fail in the battle for composure. 

It took a long time before either of them spoke again, and Draco’s voice only came out low, hoarse. ‘I wanted to bring you up in a world where the name Malfoy meant something. And then, when I lost you, I wanted _nothing_ to do with the people who’d killed you. When I thought I could get you back, I - there was no price I wouldn’t pay, Scorpius.’ 

‘For me.’ The warm air was almost choking now, and Scorpius’s hand fell by his side. ‘Yeah. Everyone wants to do things for me. But they’re not so good at asking what _I_ would want, are they?’ He couldn’t look at Rose because he knew he’d break, knew that if he saw her right now he would forever taint her with the same disgust he felt for his father, felt on some, detached level, for Nathalie Lockett. ‘I didn’t _want_ you to build a family name for me, Father. I didn’t want you to work so hard to create this business, this reputation - not at what it cost -’ 

‘I know the Council was -’ 

‘I’m not _talking_ about the Council! I’m talking about _you_! My whole life, you have been so _obsessed_ with making the family name mean something that you never cared for the _family_! You didn’t just try to mould the Malfoy name into some ideal; you tried to mould _me_ into some ideal, you tried to mould _Mum_ into some ideal, and all you did was make her _hate_ you so badly she couldn’t even risk being near _me_! All you did was _destroy_ us!’ 

‘That’s not true.’ Draco whirled around at last, and for the first time Scorpius could see something other than superior control contort his father’s expression. It was, perhaps, the first time he’d seen his father as a man who could bleed and be hurt, but after all this time it stirred only the disgust in him, and not the pity. ‘I did this for _you_ , even if it meant Lethe getting out -’ 

‘Maybe you had to do that.’ Scorpius’ jaw set. ‘Lillian might have killed me otherwise and, yes, she’d have probably just found _another_ way if you refused her. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you refusing to come forward since. I’m talking about you refusing to come forward _before_ I died. You say this was for me; it wasn’t. This is about _you_ , and you not standing how the family name’s been smeared, because you don’t _understand_ it’s been smeared by _our_ actions. The Malfoy name means what it does because of what _Malfoys_ have done, and the _only_ way I have been able to get away from the shadows cast by you, by Lucius, by Abraxas, by Brutus and Armand and Septimus and Nicholas and all of them has been to care nothing, _nothing_ for you! But it doesn’t _fucking_ work like that, does it!’ He’d thrown his wand on the floor by now, stalked over to his father. ‘We’re going to take that Portkey, and let you slither away, and you can go off and die or crawl into a corner and lick your wounds and _fail_ to take responsibility for what you’ve done. And I -’ Scorpius’ chin jerked up a defiant half-inch, and he hated that he could feel Rose’s fire in him, then, because while he knew how she inspired him he didn’t want to even _think_ about her right now. ‘And I’m going to go do the right thing. And I’m going to keep trying to do the right thing for the rest of my life, and if I have to burn down everything you and every Malfoy before you has done to achieve that, so be it!’ 

Draco stared at him, working his jaw for a long moment. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘You get what you want. Go get the Portkey.’ Scorpius turned away and looked at Albus, not Rose. Albus, who stepped forward to clasp him on the shoulder, which blocked her from his view so he didn’t have to shy away from the sheer horror and guilt he could feel pouring off her. ‘And let’s go save the bloody day.’ 


	52. Wasted All the Land

‘Back door,’ Scorpius coughed as they came cracking into existence in a long corridor of pale stone. ‘Of course it’s a clumsy arrival.’ 

Rose had to slump against the wall. ‘I’m _sorry_ , I can only Apparate us so smoothly through centuries-old wards and into the designated emergency arrival zone, even _with_ an access rune -’ 

He grabbed her hand, gut twisting along with his smile. ‘I was kidding. This is _brilliant_ , Rose.’ 

‘And you two can stop arguing,’ said Albus, wand levelled on the passageway up and onward into the belly of Niemandhorn, ‘so we can actually get to work. Or we’re not going to save _anyone_.’ 

Scorpius thought about making a joke, remembered that Eva was somewhere in the castle, and thought better of it. Of all the changes of his friends he’d caught up with, cold, angry Albus was something new. Now he buzzed like all his fear and tension could barely be contained even in his large frame, and Scorpius was unsure how to handle it. The best bet was, he suspected, to keep going, and to get everyone out of this situation alive. 

But he still looked at Rose, who was pale from the effort. She pushed herself off the wall and brushed her hair back. ‘I’m good to go.’ 

‘You’re sure? We might end up fighting for our lives at any moment -’ 

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘It’s almost like I’m an expert at that.’ 

There was no light down here, the walls themselves shining with that sheen that looked at first glance like ice, but was neither wet nor as cold as it should be to the touch. Whatever stone this castle had been hewn from was something else, and Scorpius suspected Rose could talk his ear off about its properties in facilitating the security magics that bound Niemandhorn and protected it from all attacks. 

Except for the attack they were in the middle of. 

For a long time there was no sound, either, save their own footsteps. Sticking anyone who apparated into the only emergency entrance of the castle in a long, narrow corridor was a decent idea, he supposed. It meant that if the wrong person got their hands on an access runestone, they’d still be a sitting duck while they approached the main castle complex. Lucky for them, it seemed nobody was aware of their arrival. Perhaps any warning alarms weren’t working. Perhaps the Council of Thorns didn’t care. 

Perhaps there was nobody there to hear them. 

They passed through a heavy wooden door into a wider network of corridors Scorpius recognised from visiting Bachelet before the sound of chaos reached them. It was distant, like coming to them through a dream, and only from above. Either the fighting hadn’t reached the subterranean parts of Niemandhorn, or it had long ago left it. Flashes of magic. Thudding of masonry. Screams of pain. It was far from constant, but regular enough. There had been no absolute victory. Yet. 

‘This is insane,’ Rose muttered. ‘Raskoph’s just going to get himself and everyone around him _killed_ -’ 

‘That’ll be the plan,’ said Scorpius. ‘With Lethe gone, he’s lost. He was all but beaten before he brought it back. This isn’t just a last hurrah, but if Lillian backed and then betrayed him, he’ll want vengeance. He’ll want to destroy her victory. He’s _always_ been happy to rack up a body-count along the way. It’s not an acceptable loss for him, it’s a _bonus_.’ 

‘People outside have to be sending in reinforcements, _surely_ ,’ Albus said through gritted teeth. 

‘Niemandhorn’s Unplottable. It’s even harder to find than Hogwarts; if you can get to Hogsmeade, you can get to Hogwarts on foot. But there’s no nearby reference point for Niemandhorn. The train-line is the _only_ way,’ said Rose. ‘And the train from Paris takes almost eighteen hours to get here. I’m sure the IMC outside can do _something_ faster, but it won’t be immediate.’ 

Scorpius thought about commenting how they _really_ had to stop what was going on here, then, if they were the first reinforcements on the scene and had decided to use the Apparition rune themselves instead of handing it to a small team of professionals. It wasn’t like side-along Apparition could have brought in more than a couple more Aurors, and the three of them knew how to handle themselves in a fight. But there was a damned good chance they were the only cavalry inbound for a while. 

Then they turned the corner to see the winding stairway out of the dungeons and up into Niemandhorn proper. A bloodied trail along the paving stones led to the slumped form of Nathalie Lockett collapsed against a wall, and he stopped caring about his moral imperative. 

She had to have dragged herself. The trail came from an open doorway along the corridor, but however far she’d come, she’d make it no further. For a moment he thought she was already dead, she was so still. But then he saw her stir at the sight of them, and before he knew it he’d fair flown down the corridor, fallen to his knees beside her even if that meant kneeling in blood, and all revelations about her allegiance couldn’t have been further from his mind. 

‘ _Nat_ \- what the hell happened -’ 

Her green eyes were unfocused, wild as they locked on him. A bloodied hand reached for him, patted at his face, and he didn’t care that he got smeared. ‘You’re not here. You’re not supposed to be…’ 

‘I know, but I _am_ , this is real, I’m here, and -’ He brought his wand to her side, but her robes were black and sodden with blood and he realised he had no idea what to do. ‘Rose; _Rose_!’ 

‘Think I’ll need about _five_ blood-replenishing potions,’ Lockett slurred, even as Rose thudded down the corridor to them. ‘Don’t think even Weasley packs that many…’ 

Scorpius clutched her wrist as Rose began to rifle through her bag, swearing. ‘What happened?’ 

Her expression creased, but the flash of pain in her eyes wasn’t physical. ‘Thane. I have to - you have to understand - I freed him, I _helped_ him -’ 

‘I know! I know, it’s okay -’ 

‘It’s not -’ 

‘I know you brought me back,’ he blurted, wrapping his hand around hers. ‘I know it was you, and I understand, and I _forgive_ you; you just have to concentrate and Rose is going to patch you up…’ 

But Rose was staring at her bag, then at Lockett, and she reached for his arm. ‘Scorpius…’ 

_I should hate you_ , Scorpius thought as he stared at the pale, wide-eyed shape of Nat Lockett, clutching and gasping at the last vestiges of life. _You did this,_ all _of this; Lethe and all the people it killed and the Council_ _’s return_ \- 

‘I don’t get forgiveness,’ Lockett croaked. ‘Don’t expect it, don’t deserve it -’ 

‘I don’t _care_ ,’ he spat, but his voice was falling over itself now, words more like sobs. ‘You brought me back, and I _remember_ that, I remember coming back through because _you_ called, because _you_ held me when I fell back through, and I was back and I was safe -’ 

_And it felt so much like home that when Castagnary told me it was Mum, I believed him. But it wasn_ _’t Mum, it was you, it was_ you _…_   
  
Her hand in his grasp weakened. ‘I’d tell you to stop Thane,’ Lockett whispered. ‘Or Lillian. But I don’t care - oh, _shit_ , that hurts…’ 

A shudder ran through her body, and he tried clutching harder but her eyes glazed over. ‘Nat - _Nat_ , you’re going to be okay, I’m here, I’m -’ 

And she died with a sob of pain wracking her body, and him beyond her sight, beyond her reach. 

It was Rose who moved first; Rose who gently reached out to close her eyes, Rose who then tightened her hold on Scorpius’ arm. ‘She’d lost too much blood and there was dark magic in that wound. I’m sorry. If a proper Healer had got to her sooner…’ 

‘But there’s nobody down here.’ Scorpius’s voice came out like he’d chewed on rocks. ‘Just us.’ He drew a deep breath that quavered from his very core, and didn’t bring him the strength he’d hoped for. 

‘The cells are down that way,’ said Albus, coming from the door the blood trail led from. His expression was flat, stony. ‘Someone must have broken out and done that to her.’ 

‘She said she’d _freed_ Thane.’ Scorpius blinked, and now something brought strength. Something pure, something fierce, something _ancient,_ blazing in his gut: anger, hatred, and all focused on one man after years of being honed to a knife’s edge. ‘Thane did this to her.’ 

Rose’s hand was still on his arm as he pushed to his feet, blood on his knees, his hands, his face. ‘We’ll get Thane. He’s here too; we’ll get him.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius clenched his jaw and looked up the stairway. ‘He and I are _way_ overdue a reckoning.’ 

The stairway led them out of the dungeons, away from the bloodstained flagstones and the still, abandoned body of Nathalie Lockett. Albus’ gaze wasn’t unsympathetic, but Scorpius knew his mind was elsewhere, that his thoughts were more on the living they needed to save, than the dead who’d doomed themselves by all their own sins. He couldn’t disagree, but still anger kept his legs moving, kept him hurrying in Albus’ fierce, devoted wake, Rose taking up the rear and, Scorpius suspected, keeping a close, concerned eye on him. Now they walked passageways lit by sconces and chandeliers, crossed corridors with long rugs to bring colour and life to the icy stone, passed windows beyond which flashed cold winds of the mountain and - black spots? 

Albus paused only for a heartbeat to peer out one of those windows. ‘They’ve got fliers.’ 

‘I guess it stops any of the IMC getting away by broom,’ Rose said. ‘I still don’t get how he’s doing this, though. Niemandhorn’s insanely defensible; Raskoph couldn’t have broken through here without taking prohibitive losses. There can’t be enough Thornweavers _left_ for him to beat the IMC with overwhelming force, and while this might be a suicide run, I didn’t realise his followers were so insane they’d charge the castle’s defences. He doesn’t _have_ Inferi any more to use the usual overwhelming force tactics -’ 

Then they rounded the corner and saw what Raskoph had instead of Inferi. 

‘Oh, _bugger_ ,’ swore Albus, and tried to blast the oncoming golem out of a window. He was acting by instinct more than sense, because if he’d used sense he’d have remembered this was fruitless. Magic burst from his wand, a force enough to send a cow flying, but it simply splashed off the stony hide of the magic-resistant construct. 

This one wasn’t like the golems they’d encountered before. Those had been clad in the armour of the Templars who’d stolen the magics from Jerusalem to make their own; this was bare, living clay, moving like muscle and sinew but with magic instead of blood. It was as if someone had poorly described a man to a sculptor, who had used sub-par tools to hew a shape from rock, and it was still coming. 

‘Where’s Matt’s pretentious sword when you need it?’ Scorpius bellowed as the golem bore down on Albus, who had to duck under a huge, rocky fist that could break him in half if he’d been a heartbeat slower. 

‘I don’t know; give us something to _throw_ at it!’ Albus was back-pedalling, moving on the balls of his feet like a boxer might dance away from his enemies. 

Scorpius looked up and down the corridor wildly. ‘Like what, ugly portraits?’ 

Rose levelled her wand on the nearby wall and tried to blow a chunk out of it. The ancient stone of myth and magic didn’t take kindly to a blast from one lone witch, and the resulting chunks of flying masonry were only fist-sized. When they’d pummelled golems to death down in Badenheim, that had been with chunks of stone as big as Scorpius himself. And with that pretentious sword. 

‘Are you _kidding_ me?’ Rose muttered, then whipped her wand again. The fractured shards of frosty rock swarmed up at her command, binding together like a huge, stony snowball, but that was still no larger than her head. Scorpius eyeballed a trophy cabinet ponderously as Albus kept weaving away from the golem’s blows, and knew neither broken masonry nor flimsy furniture would make the construct so much as balk. ‘This isn’t -’ 

‘ _Outta the way_!’ 

The shape that blurred past Scorpius came barely up to his waist, but when it clipped his hip it was still enough to send him flying. He hit the wall hard enough to knock all air from his lungs, and so could only gawp in winded astonishment as the figure charged into the golem. There was a thud, a crack, and the golem staggered back at the impact. 

‘C’mere, you lummox,’ swore Harley the House Elf, skidding to a halt. His suit was a mess, he was bleeding from a cut above an eye, but whatever magics he’d done to himself had granted enough power to go toe-to-toe with a golem. 

_Of course. The golem can ignore magic. It can_ _’t ignore a House Elf strong enough to bench-press it, even if the golem’s strengthened by magics._   
  
A crack stretched across the golem’s midriff, and it fought to steady itself. The mouth opened for a roar like a steam-train, and while Scorpius tried to get a glimpse of the paper that had to be in the mouth, the source of its enchantment and power, the blazing light of magic made it impossible to see. Harley simply lifted his fists, poised like a prizefighter, and quick enough to duck around the golem’s next kick. He stepped in, hands reaching for the golem’s waist, and as Scorpius gaped, the diminutive House Elf picked the huge, stone-hewn creature up. 

Then threw it crashing out the window. The glass, at least, was not as sturdy as the walls made of inherently magical rock. There was the shattering of glass, one final roar of defiance, then the golem was in the cold, frozen air - and plummeted. Wherever it landed was so far down they couldn’t even hear the crash. 

Harley peered out the window, dusting off his hands, then stepped back - and staggered, and almost fell. ‘I don’t think I can do that again,’ he slurred, and Scorpius watched the blood rush from his face to turn him a ghastly shade of grey. ‘And I don’t fancy dying for you bastards like a good little servant.’ 

To his own shock, Scorpius found himself hurrying to Harley’s side. ‘We’ll try to not need saving again - Merlin, sit _down_ …’ 

‘Don’t you tell me what to do, Malfoy,’ Harley sneered, but it came out like he was drunk. Then he sat down, hard. ‘Those things hit like the train they came in on.’ 

Rose came over, fishing through her bag, and looking relieved that this time maybe she had a potion to help. ‘How many of those things does Raskoph have?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Harley took the potion she handed him and didn’t look at the label before he threw it down his throat. ‘Mad bastard crashed the Express into the platform, didn’t he? It were due this morning, but didn’t come in on time. Council must have hijacked it, filled it with their remaining mad bastards and these bloody _rock monsters_.’ 

‘Golems,’ Scorpius offered helpfully. Behind them, Albus moved down the corridor, wand levelled on the route ahead. ‘Constructs; they’re all-but immune to magic.’ 

‘Yeah, I got that.’ Harley blinked, and Scorpius took the empty potion bottle off him, sneaking a look at the label. Invigorating Draught. ‘Straight-on blasts do nothing. You can pelt them with stuff or punch them, but the wizards are bloody _hopeless_ against them. There might be only… thirty of them? Against a few hundred wizards in Niemandhorn? But maybe a third of those fight, and they can’t do a damned thing, can they?’ 

‘Raskoph’s killing people, isn’t he,’ said Rose in a low, cold voice. 

Harley pulled out his dainty little handkerchief and mopped his brow. ‘Don’t doubt people are dead, but he’s been taking prisoners more. Unimportant people get locked in rooms. The important ones? He’s dragging them down into the main Convocation meeting chamber. There’s muttering he wants a full set before he starts the executions.’ 

Scorpius swallowed down bile. ‘If he wants the full set, he’ll be after Lillian Rourke. Does he have her?’ 

Harley made a face. ‘No. She’ll be the last piece. And you’re not going to like this, but _Thane_ got to her first.’ 

‘I bet he did.’ 

‘Rourke and that psycho other one said much the same thing.’ Harley tucked away his handkerchief and looked up at them. ‘I ran into them before. Covered their escape; they’re going after Thane and the Chairman. Think Thane’s headed for the north tower; they’ll be going that way.’ 

Scorpius’ head whipped around to Albus. ‘Let’s go.’ 

But it was Rose who reached for his arm, Rose whose gaze was coloured by hesitation. ‘Hang on. Of course Thane and Lillian need stopping, but if Raskoph is rounding everyone up for _mass murder_ , we have to do something. Or he might give up waiting to have Lillian in his grasp.’ 

Albus’ expression creased. ‘What’re we supposed to do?’ 

‘I don’t _know_. But we have to try. You think Eva can’t handle Thane?’ 

Scorpius looked between them, and saw the uncertainty. Guilt swam in him as he drew a slow breath. ‘I hate to say it, but I’ve got to go for Thane. I’m sorry, I’ve _got_ to -’ 

Rose turned to him, and he saw her breath catch. ‘I understand you feel like -’ Her expression creased. ‘Damn it. We had a new rule.’ 

_Where you go, I go._   
  
‘I thought it’d last longer, too.’ Scorpius glanced at Harley. ‘North Tower?’ At the House Elf’s nod, he stepped back, wand slipping into his hand. ‘I’ll reinforce them. You guys deal with Raskoph. I don’t know how. Rose will think of something brilliant.’ 

Albus sprung forward. ‘You shouldn’t go alone -’ 

‘Come on, Al, you’re better at saving the day than me,’ said Scorpius with a forced, lopsided smile, and met his best friend’s gaze, conveying as much as he could with his eyes. _Stick with her. Please._   
  
Albus sighed and nodded, stepping back, and Scorpius turned to Rose. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to do this.’ 

‘I can give you a helping hand,’ Harley groaned, pushing himself to his feet. ‘Never been to the North Tower, can’t Apparate you. Can get you closer, though.’ 

‘You can Apparate inside the wards -’ Scorpius shut his hanging jaw. ‘House Elf. Never mind.’ 

‘It’s hilarious how wizards who don’t see Elves as people always underestimate us.’ Harley frowned and dusted himself off. ‘Not as hilarious as equal rights, of course, which have me personally in _stitches_ , but - just close your eyes, it’ll be a bit different.’ 

Rose grabbed Scorpius before either could move, fist wrapping in the front of his jacket, and pulled him down for a quick, impulsive kiss. That was enough to set his head spinning, and he was still reeling when she let him go, eyes locking onto his with a fierce, blazing light. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. ‘Come back to me.’ 

_I promise_ , he wanted to say, but knew better. So all he did was step back, nod to Harley - and then the world whipped and changed around him.

* * 

Rose watched the spot where Scorpius had been, then drew a breath and reached deep inside herself. It had been a long time since duty fuelled determination; for years she had cared far more about getting the people she cared about through a crisis in one piece. Even before Scorpius’ death, on the Chalice hunt, where Selena had been after revenge and Scorpius proving himself and Albus fighting the good fight, she’d been there to watch their backs. Perhaps she’d remembered the fear from the long moments where she’d thought it was Scorpius who had sacrificed himself, not Methuselah. Perhaps she’d decided there was enough heroism going around, and someone had to be a team player. 

It still wasn’t _exactly_ duty she found now, though, to fuel her. It was something she knew far, far better, and which burnt far, far fiercer: guilt. Maybe she couldn’t right all her wrongs, but she could avoid making new ones. 

‘Let’s go,’ she told Albus and Harley, and turned back down the corridor. 

‘Great,’ said Harley, following. ‘Except what’re we doing?’ 

‘I don’t _know_ ,’ she admitted. ‘We need more information. They’ve got golems, and that’s how they’re able to overwhelm the defences, right? Otherwise it’s some sorely outnumbered Thornweavers. So if we take out the golems, the IMC can regain control.’ 

Albus made a low, unhappy noise. ‘Your solution is, “if we take away their tactical advantage, _we_ have the tactical advantage.”’ 

‘My _solution_ is that they’re relying on magical constructs which we know are fallible. Far easier to find some spell to take out the golems in one go than some spell to take out a bunch of wizards in one go.’ 

‘Okay,’ said Albus. ‘Then we need more information on golems and more information on the Council’s moves. I’d suggest I pull the Cloak on and do some recon on Raskoph and the prisoners, but I don’t think we should split up, and I haven’t yet had the chance to test what golems think of the Invisibility Cloak.’ 

Rose made a face. ‘That’s a really good question. No, I don’t want to find out the hard way, either.’ 

‘Then where,’ said Harley, ‘do we find more on golems?’ 

‘ _Matt_ was the expert on golems. And I say “expert”. He did a little reading on them after Badenheim and obviously knew enough to deal with the dragon in Tomar, but these are old magics not well recorded, and they’re Jewish, there are only so many sources -’ Rose stopped short, and Albus almost bowled into the back of her. ‘And we’re in the old headquarters of the Magical Alliance from the Grindelwald War.’ 

Albus cocked his head. ‘So?’ 

‘So there were a whole lot of Jewish wizards driven out of territory occupied by the Grindelwald faction in the war, and here’s the first place those with serious resources, archives, and records would come. And we _know_ that the Thule Society co-opted use of golems from the Templars. We need to get into the archives.’ For a heartbeat she thought about Bachelet, but that made her think about Cassian and how he regretted his sacrifice, and she decided she didn’t want to think too hard about that. 

‘I know the way,’ said Harley. ‘And best I go first. You two delicate wizards aren’t much good against golems.’ 

‘Can _you_ really take on many more?’ asked Albus. 

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Do we got much of a choice?’ 

‘I suppose not.’ 

The archives were, Rose remembered well enough, at a different section of the castle to the dungeons and emergency access, because nobody wanted to keep prisoners right next to vaults of ancient knowledge and artifacts. So Harley led them along a broader corridor, most of the sounds of fighting coming from far above or lower, and more and more muffled by now as the Council of Thorns captured yet more personnel of the IMC. This meant, at least, that more of them would be busy guarding their prisoners instead of roaming the corridors on the hunt. 

So they almost jumped out of their skins when they went down a floor and heard the screaming, and Rose almost choked on her own heart when she realised she could _recognise_ it. _Matt_. When had she learnt to recognise his scream? 

Her wand was in her hand before she knew what was happening. ‘Let’s go.’ 

‘Rose, we don’t -’ Albus tried to stop her, but caught only air and so had to run in her wake. ‘Let’s not rush into trouble!’ 

_You mean, let_ _’s care more about our own hides than saving people._   
  
_I_ _’m not sure my hide’s worth that much._   
  
Harley fell into step beside her, little legs faster than they looked. ‘If there’s a golem, you _still_ let me go first.’ 

‘Didn’t know you were going to be self-sacrificing, Harley,’ she huffed. 

‘Like I said, I ain’t dying for you like a good little servant. But I ain’t standing by picking my nails while you get turned into jam, neither.’ 

But he looked a little grey, still, so it was probably for the best that when they burst into the room the screaming came from, a broad conference chamber with huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that had been blown out at some point in all the fighting, there were no golems. 

There _were_ two Thornweavers, robed and masked, stood over the writhing, whimpering form of Matthias Doyle. 

Fear and rage burnt and froze within Rose. They wormed their way into her incantation before she even thought it, brought the glint of her Stun and fuelled the speed of her arm as she hurled magic with such a strength it sent the first of the Thornweavers flying. 

‘You get the hell away from him!’ There was a hysterical edge to her voice she didn’t like, and so she appeased herself by following up the Stun with a second spell. Maybe the first had been enough - the Thornweaver had barely landed before he was smacked with magic again - but watching the impact jolt him into unconsciousness made her feel better, at least. 

Behind her she was aware of the exchange of magics, of spells splashing on shields, but by the time she turned, Albus and Harley stood over the other Thornweaver. Harley had his boot on the man’s chest and looked pretty pleased with herself, but she wasn’t going to begrudge him extracting some satisfaction from the situation. She would have felt it herself if she could stop to think. But there was no time to think, only time to fly to Matt’s side, reach to her bag for yet more potions, yet more ways her preparation could maybe, _maybe_ save a life this time - but there weren’t too many marks on him. The torment had, most likely, been magical. 

‘I’m okay,’ he slurred, still flat on his back, eyes half-closed. 

‘Don’t move,’ she instructed, reaching for him. He writhed away, but she ignored him, grabbing his shoulder and bringing healing spells to mind. ‘You can hate me all you want, but I am _going_ to heal you.’ 

‘You don’t have to -’ 

Harley planted his hands on Matt’s shoulders. ‘Let her do her work, boy. You look like you took a pounding.’ 

Albus was dragging the two Thornweavers together and tying them with magical bindings. ‘What happened?’ 

‘Selena and Eva - they were going to find Selena’s mum, we had Thornweavers behind us, I stayed to slow them down. And convince them I’d been alone. _That_ worked.’ Matt coughed as Rose’s healing magics coursed through him, but the moment some colour returned to his cheeks he was wriggling out of Harley’s grasp, sitting up. ‘Unfortunately, they recognised me.’ 

‘Huh,’ said Harley. ‘Fame’s a bitch.’ 

‘They thought I might know where Chairman Rourke is. Which I _don_ _’t_ , but they had to check _really hard_ to make sure.’ He rolled a shoulder, wincing. ‘Then I might have provoked them.’ 

_Why do I fall for idiots who like pissing off people more powerful than them?_ Rose stood, lips thin, because she knew Matt wouldn’t let her fuss more. 

Which meant she was looking out the window in time to see the two Thornweavers hovering there on broomsticks, wands levelled on the open room. 

‘ _Get down_!’ 

She was summoning a Shield even as she hurled herself to the floor, covering Matt as best she could and hoping Harley was still close enough to be under her protections. Albus she couldn’t reach, but then there was roaring magical energy and shards of flying glass and a wave of heat crashing overhead. Whatever spells the two airborne Thornweavers were throwing, it was enough to force her to keep her head down for long, blazing seconds, teeth gritted with the effort of keeping the protections up. 

‘Oh, no you _don_ _’t_ -’ That was Albus, and when she looked up her was still on his feet - singed, smoldering, but upright and hurling his wand at the two fliers. A long, silvery lash burst from his wand-tip at them, and while one swerved away, the other wasn’t so fast. Whip-like, Albus’ magics wrapped around the broom handle, then drew taught and yanked the rider inside. 

Rose rolled to a kneel, wand levelled on the window, but the Thornweaver still in the air was backing out of her range - and there, in the distance, a couple more dark dots were sweeping down to join him. ‘Let’s get out of here!’ 

‘Give me a second!’ said Albus, and punched the Thornweaver he’d dragged inside. The man went limp, and Albus gave a thin smile. ‘ _Now_ I’m ready!’ 

‘Harley, get Matt - and Albus, bring him!’ Rose waved at the downed broom rider, then the door. Harley could only drag Matt, but he could do it quickly, while Albus threw the previously-airborne Thornweaver over his shoulder - _and_ grabbed his broom. Rose took up the rear as they returned to the safety of the windowless corridors, wand ready with a Shield, but the reinforcements didn’t get to them before they were gone. 

‘They won’t come after us,’ Matt croaked, voice juddering as he was dragged along the paving stones. ‘They’re driving people away from windows and escape points, so the Thornweavers and golems still inside can capture them. Selena and Eva were lucky, I think; they were climbing the walls before the Council had a lot of brooms in the air.’ 

Rose didn’t think too hard about why walls were being climbed, because then Albus was kicking open an office door and dumping his captured Thornweaver on a desk, as Harley thoughtfully propped Matt up against a wall this time. She made sure the door was sealed behind them. 

Albus folded his arms across his chest. ‘What now?’ 

Matt coughed, getting his breath back. ‘We should try to help Selena and Eva -’ 

‘Scorpius went after them.’ Rose hesitated, then decided now was not the time to tell a barely-coherent Matt everything going down with Lillian Rourke and Prometheus Thane. ‘ _We_ need to go after Raskoph and get his prisoners away from him.’ 

Matt squinted up at her. ‘Rose, that’s a lovely thought, but the Council has _dozens_ of people on the ground. _And_ twice as many golems. They’re spreading out across the castle to capture who they can, but we don’t stand a chance against even a tenth of their number.’ 

‘I wasn’t planning on a direct fight.’ She crossed the room to the unconscious Thornweaver and yanked his mask off. ‘But we can’t plan _anything_ without information.’ 

Harley stood. ‘You’re going to -’ 

‘I’m a _Legilimens_ ,’ she assured him, and pressed her wand to the Thornweaver’s temples. 

For once, she didn’t need to be subtle. She didn’t need to ply her way through layers of mental defences; she _could_ afford to brute-force this because her questions were simple and the answers, she hoped, even simpler. _Where is Raskoph? Where are the prisoners? How many are with him? Where are the bulk of the Council_ _’s forces?_ That he was unconscious made it easier, in that she didn’t have a focused effort to fight, but it also made the answers more scattered, train-of-thought. 

‘Raskoph’s in the main Convocation chamber,’ she recited as images flashed across her mind. Some were memories, some were constructed images based off what he’d been told. ‘Important prisoners are being gathered there. The rest are getting locked in rooms or - or killed. He’s primarily got golems with him; they make great shock troopers but the Council’s _got_ most people in Niemandhorn. They’re hunting stragglers now, so that takes people capable of thinking. Golems can guard.’ 

‘And be hell on wheels to take down,’ Albus muttered. 

Rose gritted her teeth and focused on the image of the Convocation chamber, trying to separate imagination from memory. But this Thornweaver had done a fly-by not long ago, and so the image of Raskoph, tall and proud at the broken windows behind the main podium, surrounded by the battered IMC leadership and his dauntless army of golems, was bright, clear, and _real_. ‘The only good news is that he’s waiting until he’s got Lillian Rourke in his hands before he starts killing people.’ 

‘He probably wants to kill her in front of them,’ Matt said. ‘Or kill her people in front of her. A general vengeful killing theme.’ 

‘That gives us time. They’re not sure -’ Then something else swum up from the Thornweaver’s memories, a question she hadn’t asked, but as she thought about Lillian her Legilimency locked onto _his_ thoughts about her. ‘Oh, shit.’ 

Albus straightened. ‘Shit?’ 

‘He got a report right before he did the fly-by on us. Geiger - who’s been broken out, _great_ , and is leading a whole squad - is headed for the North Tower, because they think Lillian might be there.’ 

Matt squinted. ‘Is she?’ 

Rose sucked on her teeth as she let her wand drop, severing the connection. ‘Yes. And Selena’s after her. 

‘So’s Scorpius.’ Albus’ gaze darkened. ‘And Eva.’ 

‘They _might_ be there.’ Rose turned on him. ‘They _might_ be elsewhere. Nowhere is safe, Al, we’re in the middle of a _war-zone_!’ 

‘Except now they’re headed for the top of a tower, nowhere to go, with Geiger and a _squad_ of Thornweavers coming up behind them!’ 

‘Maybe! But it’s impossible to tell! And there’s nothing we can do about it!’ 

‘Yes, there is.’ Albus crossed the room to snatch up the Thornweaver’s mask, and slung the broom over his shoulder. ‘I can go after them.’ 

‘And do _what_?’ 

His chin jutted out. ‘Give them a hand. Give them _warning_. Maybe fly them out of there -’ 

‘Without getting shot down yourself?’ 

He waved the mask. ‘I’ll be another Thornweaver in the sky. They won’t know any better.’ 

She lunged to grab his elbow as he turned away. ‘Albus, this is insane. We _have_ to trust them to take care of themselves. At _any_ moment, Raskoph might decide to start killing prisoners, and so far as we know, we are the _only_ people still in Niemandhorn free and armed and able to fight him!’ 

He didn’t face her, and she could feel the tension in his arms, the anger knotting his muscles and shoulders. ‘And do _you_ have a plan? Is there anything we _can_ do about that?’ 

‘I’m _working_ on it -’ 

‘And while you work on how four of us are going to take down a small army of golems and dark wizards, Selena, Eva, and _Scorpius_ might be getting -’ 

‘Killed! Yes! I know!’ Guilt overrode the fear and anger now, and continued to snake up her spine, wrap around her throat. ‘ _Believe_ me when I say I know that, but there are _way_ more lives on the line if we don’t stop Raskoph! I thought you said you wished we were better than this!’ 

‘I also said I know we’re _not_. I prefer to think about the people I care about, that I know I _can_ save!’ 

She yanked him back, and he rounded on her, big and angry and _certain_ in a way she’d only seen him once before. ‘You _don_ _’t_ know you can save them. But we have to _try_ this, Albus, there are _so many_ people in there, and we _know_ they’re helpless. And I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off, but I _do_ know I can’t _do this without you_!’ 

He stared at her for a moment, anger subsiding, but when he spoke his voice was a low, dedicated rumble. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I’m not losing them again.’ 

And she knew when she’d seen him like this before, heard him like this before. He’d been more defeated, less angry, but still so absolutely certain of what he was doing when he’d left her after Scorpius died. Her hand fell from his arm, and she drew a slow, shaky breath. ‘Then I’m sorry, too. I’m not letting other people die for them again.’ 

Albus looked like he might argue, or possibly waver - but then his eyes flashed, he tightened his grip on his broom, and turned on his heel to leave the room, hurry down the corridor, and with every thud of his footsteps echoing away into nothing, Cassian Malfoy’s words thudded in Rose’s ears. 

_Maybe we get our happy life but we let evil win, in the world by letting it prosper, or in ourselves by breaking all our own rules._

_Or we sacrifice the personal for the bigger picture._

She’d done breaking her own rules, and she was barely sure she was going to manage living with it. So now it was, perhaps, time to sacrifice so evil could not prosper.


	53. Power on this Dead World

Knowing and _knowing_ were two different things. Selena had seen Thane and her mother talk, she’d seen them leave the office together. Disaster struck Niemandhorn and not only was her mother fleeing the scene, she was doing so in the willing company of one of the world’s most dangerous men. The man Selena had once committed to hunting down across the world and killing. 

She’d hunted him, alright. But still he lived. Maybe today was a day to change that. 

With Harley left behind, so was most of the chaos of Niemandhorn. The shouts of combat, screams of pain, and flashes of magic and thudding rock faded into the distance as they ran down corridors, up stairways. Not many people worked in these upper levels of the castle. The Council was still occupied rounding up staffers from the lower floors. Only a trio of Thornweavers, lying in slick pools of their own blood when they stumbled upon them, gave any sign that Thane and her mother had run into trouble. 

It did not look like it had been a _lot_ of trouble. 

Then their passageway reached the north tower, and a staircase spiralling up to the rooftop itself. Eva went press on, but Selena hesitated and grabbed her by the arm. ‘Wait.’ 

‘We wait too long, and they’ll take whatever escape route’s up there. They’re not going to sit around.’ 

‘Probably not.’ But Selena didn’t let go, gaze hardening. ‘I just want you to remember that we’ve left Matt behind to go after them. He might be a prisoner. He might be dead.’ 

Eva frowned. ‘I don’t need reminding of that.’ 

‘You’re about to confront Prometheus Thane, who’s going to do his best to make you his _bitch_ again with just a word.’ Selena licked dry lips. ‘You really _do_ need reminding of what’s at stake.’ 

Eva’s expression flickered. ‘That was a long time ago.’ 

‘And you’ll face him in about two minutes.’ 

They said nothing more as they hurried up the stairwell. Selena let Eva go first, tactical judgement overriding her anxiety. She wanted to rush, to race up to her mother and shake her, to make her explain how this wasn’t as it appeared. But if this turned into a fight, there was nobody better in the world to have on her side than Eva Saida. 

So long as Eva Saida _was_ on her side. 

Images flashed through her mind with every thudding step up the stairs; everything her mother had told her, everything she’d seen of the Council. Then conjured scenes, flickering moments of her mother in dark lairs consorting with Prometheus Thane, with Joachim Raskoph… 

The frozen winds of the Alps smacked her away from imagination and into the brisk present when they reached the roof. It wasn’t large, a mere rounded tower-top, and ice had settled underfoot enough to make an unexpected footstep treacherous. It was snowing, but not hard; snowing like they were a scene for a Christmas card, instead of hunting down traitors and terrorists at the highest point of all the world’s power. 

Her mother and Prometheus Thane stood next to a pair of broomsticks at the far side of the roof of the tower, eyes on the skies, where dark dots sometimes swept through cloud cover. It took them a heartbeat before they noticed new arrivals, and the wind snatched snippets of his words across to them. 

‘…hole in the patrol patterns, then we’ll go -’ 

How close had they been to leaving? How many more words with Harley, cautions exchanged with Eva, would have resulted in Selena bursting onto an empty rooftop? 

That question stopped being so relevant when Thane spun at their footsteps, wand lashing out for a wave of biting air and shards of ice to sweep across at them. Selena threw herself down, her reflexive shield spell only taking the edge off the impact, and she felt the sting of cuts across her cheek. Eva, next to her, went down on one knee, but energy blazed around her, absorbing the onslaught. 

‘Thane!’ That was her mother, moving next to her ally, and putting a hand to his forearm. ‘You can’t -’ 

Whatever Lillian was about to say was lost when Eva lunged to her feet. Her wand moved with her whole body, back and low and then forwards, crackling with a spell she flung with full force at Thane. He sidestepped, placing himself in front of Lillian, so could only Shield them from the blast. 

As he staggered, Selena pushed herself upright. Her Stun might as well have been a light show for all the good it did; Thane’s wand still whipped to the side, blocked it - 

\- and sent it in a ricochet right back at her. 

Bouncing back and forth, the spell had less impact. It was still enough to knock her again off her feet, and she hit the icy ground hard, gasping for air. Eva and Thane exchanged spells over her, but even at a glance she could see Thane was at a disadvantage only because he was protecting Lillian, too. Selena scrambled back up and did not raise her wand again, but stared at the wild-haired, pale-faced figure of her mother. ‘ _Mum_! What the _hell_ is going on?’ 

Except the wild hair was just from the wind, the pale face just from the cold. Lillian was no fighter, but she knew to stay behind Thane, she knew how to help a Shield, and she hid only by tactical expediency, not cowardice. But at her daughter’s voice, Lillian turned, and put her hand to Thane’s arm once again. ‘This isn’t necessary.’ 

‘I beg to differ,’ growled Eva, and send magic thudding into the masonry under Thane’s feet. Nothing happened. 

The smile he gave in response was apologetic. ‘Magic stone, Eva. Can’t break it up, fling it about. It’s making fighting those golems hell downstairs.’ 

Selena hurried to her lone, crazy ally’s side. ‘Eva, we can’t -’ 

‘They can explain from inside a cell. And if this is all a misunderstanding, that’ll get cleared up there,’ said Eva through gritted teeth. 

_That_ _’s actually a much safer idea._ She was too shocked to feel as sick as she thought she should at the idea of turning her wand on her mother, but before she got to _that_ point, she had to turn her wand on Prometheus Thane anyway. She didn’t, not yet, because Eva threw another Stun and when Thane retaliated, Selena knew her place - step closer, hurl her wand in unison with Eva’s, amplify her Shield so they were both safe, so Eva could focus more on bringing Thane down. 

Not that he was batting much of an eyelid at these spells. But it looked, at least, like he didn’t want to hurl truly dark, dangerous magics at _her_ , which meant that at least her mother held some sway over him and her mother hadn’t so completely lost her marbles that she was prepared to murder her own daughter - 

‘Hey! You don’t get to finish this without me!’ 

Then Scorpius Malfoy burst onto the tower roof behind them, and Selena would have pointed out he was supposed to be on the other side of the world if she weren’t so damned pleased to see him. She actually saw Thane’s eyes widen at the fresh onslaught of spells from Scorpius, and while she doubted he feared another teenager joining the fight, an extra wand to fight couldn’t be ideal. 

Thane had, thus far, been standing to block Lillian, holding his ground, protecting with magic over movement, but now he pushed Lillian away. ‘Stay down!’ he shouted at his apparent charge, before he bounded across the wide rooftop. His whole stance changed; no more was he solid rock, unbending against Eva’s spells, but fast, flowing, dancing away from as many blasts as he blocked, hurling his attacks back with irregular, jarring speed and accuracy. 

‘What the _hell_ is going on?’ Selena snapped yet again. 

Scorpius yanked his wand up for a brisk Shield against Thane’s spell. ‘Your mother backed the Council when it was nothing but an array of mad dark wizards hiding in dark corners across the world.’ He ducked a blast. ‘She turned them into a threat so she could justify forming the Convocation, so she could seize power across the whole damned _world_. And then, when I died and they didn’t get Lethe, she charged Thane and Nat Lockett to _bring me back_ so they still had their super-weapon.’ 

This was all said very fast, punctuated by bobs and weaves against the onslaught of magic, but his words hit her harder than, perhaps, the spells might. 

‘You guys better have this!’ Selena yelled, and pulled back, letting Eva and Scorpius face off against Thane in unison. There was little she could do here except keep on Shielding, and even her inexpert eye didn’t suggest that was going to be enough. Eva was one of the most brutally competent fighters she’d ever seen and Scorpius had only got better, but Selena had seen Prometheus Thane fight Joachim Raskoph. They were in a whole other league. 

Brute force wasn’t going to do this. But while Thane was up to his eyeballs fighting two of his protégés, a witch and wizards who’d learnt their best tricks off him, little Selena Rourke, no great shakes with a wand, remained overlooked. Even her mother’s eyes were locked on the fight, though she was moving closer to the broom. 

Maybe she was securing ground. _Or_ she was going to run, and the thought of that lurched in Selena’s gut bad enough to catapult her around the periphery of the fight. ‘Don’t even _think_ about it, Mum!’ 

Lillian reeled at her daughter bearing down on her, raised her wand - and hesitated. 

_She doesn_ _’t want to hurt me._   
  
_Too bad_   
  
‘ _Stupefy_!’ 

‘ _Protego_!’ 

Lillian’s hesitation died, and then it was mother against daughter. The cold wind whipped between them, as fierce and biting as the spells they hurled. Selena wouldn’t have thought of her mother as a fighter, but she remembered stories of the odd encounter on her travels. They were both two inexpert combatants. But what they lacked in skills or talent they made up for in sheer frustration and desperation. 

‘ _How_?’ Selena demanded as a Stun blazed inches past her head. ‘How could you do this, how could you be working _with_ Thane?’ 

‘He was a _prisoner_ ,’ snapped Lillian. ‘But he opposed Raskoph. Don’t be _ridiculous_ , Selena, this is nothing more than an emergency measure to keep me safe. If there was an attack and he was free and my bodyguards were nowhere in sight, he was to evacuate me.’ 

‘That’s a lot of convenient “ifs”. You sent your bodyguards away! You attacked us!’ 

‘Of course he did!’ Lillian hurled another spell to be blocked, then pointed at Eva, still locked in a three-way throwdown with Scorpius and Thane. ‘She came at us, of _course_ she hates Thane. Better to Stun you and explain it later, but I didn’t want _you_ hurt, dear.’ 

‘No.’ Selena snapped up a Shield. ‘You’re just trying to hurt me _now_.’ 

‘You came at me -’ 

‘I’m not an _idiot_. This has all been a little too convenient, hasn’t it? Lethe’s outbreak just as the Convocation was going to fold. The only person who’s benefited from this disaster has been _you_!’ 

‘I have buried so many people -’ 

‘Mum!’ Selena lowered her wand, aware her frustration sounded more like a teenager in an argument. ‘Stop _lying_. I can _tell_!’ 

_Except, apparently, that I haven_ _’t been able to tell._   
  
To Lillian’s credit, her expression barely wavered. To Selena’s, even the mildest of flickers on her mother’s face was like a road map to guilt after all their years of shared confidences, support, fear. ‘You wouldn’t understand. You’re too close to this.’ 

‘Why, because I spent years fighting the Council? Because they abducted me at least once, almost killed me at least once? Because they got my boyfriend killed?’ Her laugh was like acid. ‘No, why might I be _close_ to this?’ 

‘I didn’t _make_ the Council!’ Their spells had stopped flying by now, but still their wands were poised, ready, and they faced off like coiled springs. ‘They were always there, coming together. I even tried to _stop_ them, but they were a fledgling group in foreign countries who might have disliked dark wizards, but they disliked Britain interfering in their work more. The world wasn’t policing itself for justice, using combined resources to be _better_ or _safer._ ’ Lillian’s lip curled. ‘It was about treaties, trade agreements, sovereignty. Profit and power!’ 

‘So, what, you helped the Council to _show the world_?’ 

‘The global wizarding world has been broken for a long time. The Council could prove a point, and I didn’t do _much_ at first, I just didn’t fight tooth and nail against ungrateful governments to smother them. I turned a blind eye. I let unsavoury characters go where they shouldn’t, let information pass through hands. And so I gained power in their ranks as someone who could help achieve their goals, influence them. They were growing anyway. All I did was let them flourish.’ 

‘Better the devil you know, if the devil you know is going to try to wipe out a school.’ 

Lillian tensed. ‘Hogwarts and Phlegethon were not my plan. I objected, it happened. It happened to all of _you_ and I was horrified and I hated it. But I did what I could.’ 

‘Like form an international government _headed by you_?’ 

‘Some of the Council were less extreme, and I put pressure on them. Together we had Thane hand over the Resurrection Stone because Phlegethon had proved its point, we _saved_ -’ 

‘Methuselah _died_!’ Selena remembered sitting in the dark in front of his body, cold and alone until her mother came, until her mother made her a promise. ‘You said the people who’d done this would pay, Mum, you _said_ \- now you’re just _paying_ them -’ 

Her wand jerked up, and so did her mother’s, but neither of them made another move. Lillian’s masks were broken by now, her gaze one of twisted, frustrated anguish. ‘The world is going to be a better place once this is over.’ 

‘And how many people have had to _die_ for us to get there?’ 

‘You saw what the world was like! Magical power is enough to have us cross the globe in the blink of an eye, but still world governments put in limitations so they can keep control, taxation, trade. Threats were never opposed in unity, resources were never pooled.’ Lillian’s eyes widened. ‘France and Spain wanted _trade agreements_ signed in exchange for offering help with Phlegethon. The entire _reason_ you took the law into your own hands and hunted Thane two years ago _by yourselves_ , as _teenagers_ , was because the system didn’t _work_! The system couldn’t bring him to justice!’ 

‘You can’t use that as a justification!’ Selena almost screeched. ‘You can’t say the world needs to be changed because it wasn’t equipped to defeat a villain _you created_! The world wouldn’t _need_ to respond to threats like Thane and the Council if you hadn’t propped them up!’ 

‘Don’t be so naive,’ Lillian sighed. ‘The Council made _huge_ leaps and bounds without me. The Stygian Plagues happened almost entirely without me. People like Raskoph, Krauser, Horn, they all existed without me, and they would have done _something_. What if we _weren_ _’t_ in control of them?’ 

‘Merlin’s _balls_ , this is why Raskoph came for me, isn’t it? Not because I was the daughter of his enemy. I was the daughter of the person _using_ him.’ 

Lillian grimaced. ‘I don’t know at what point he realised I was playing him. But he needed me while we were getting Lethe distributed, so he did nothing. Until the night of the attack, at which point he _didn_ _’t_ need me any more. Since then, I’ve not done anything to help the Council, since then I have _only_ fought them. He must have seen it coming; tried to snatch you so he could control me in the war.’ 

‘Okay, you know what?’ Selena had to grip her wand harder to stop it from shuddering. ‘Maybe I’m just a stupid teenager having a row with her mother, but the good news is that I don’t _have_ to make the decision on condemning you. I bring you in. The _world_ decides.’ 

‘The world.’ Lillian spoke to her, that time, like a mother condescending her daughter. ‘Do you think the world will listen, analyse, understand? Do you think they’ll realise how much better they will be in the years to come with the unity I’ve brought through the Convocation? Or do you think they will _panic_. Distrust their governments, go running to the hills. Set back not just global wizarding government, but _all_ wizarding government, back two centuries?’ 

‘It’s amazing, I know,’ Selena sneered. ‘When you fuck up people’s trust, they stop trusting you. Maybe you should have _thought_ about that before you embarked on a worldwide _con_ with a _body-count_.’ 

‘Perhaps I deserve that consequence, but does _everyone_ else? If you bring me in, that’s what happens.’ 

‘If I _don_ _’t_ bring you in, you get to keep riding to power on the bodies of _every_ person the Council killed.’ 

‘They can’t be brought back.’ Lillian’s eyes flashed. ‘But we can make their sacrifice not be in vein.’ 

‘It’s not a _sacrifice_! It’s fucking _murder_!’ Selena clenched her free hand. ‘And maybe you’re _right_ about the world getting screwed over if they learn what you did, but they’ll be screwed over by _you_ if you think this is acceptable!’ Her breath was coming in ragged gulps now, her head floaty. ‘Maybe once you acted out of - benevolent _frustration_ , but you went _way_ beyond just letting evil happen. You could have let it end when Scorpius died. You refused.’ 

‘If I stopped then, it _would_ have been for nothing. I regret everything that had to happen,’ said Lillian, and worst of all, Selena believed her. ‘But the world has to move forwards, not backwards.’ 

‘Not if it’s forwards into a _lie_. You can’t build anything good on that.’ 

‘Did I really raise you to be that naive?’ 

Selena let out a long, slow breath. ‘No. No, you raised me to survive and prosper at all costs, to put a brave face on everything and hide what I felt. And I believe you meant the best for _me_ , too, Mum. But it almost killed me. And it’s no way to live.’ 

Lillian looked down at her wand. ‘It was always you and me against the world, Selena. This time isn’t any different -’ 

‘That’s not going to work.’ Selena’s throat started to close up. ‘By now I am _pretty used_ to the people I care about abandoning or betraying me in some way, and I accepted you’d _already_ done that long ago. Left me to deal with my grief and suffering, but I thought it was for a _greater good_. We are _not_ the Rourke women against the world, not any more. Not in the way we used to be.’ 

She’d seen her mother keep her composure with only the slightest cracks so far. Those cracks had still been like rifts, flaws in the masks of a woman who lived for masks, who knew how to make the world see her however she wanted to be seen. But to see Lillian’s face go slack now was like watching all masks fall in an avalanche, and Selena knew this was the moment her mother realised she would _never_ understand. 

‘It’s going to be long and messy,’ Lillian whispered, her voice drifting across the frozen roof of the tower despite the whipping winds and blasts of the nearby fight. ‘Court cases and inquisitions and _you_ _’ll_ be dragged into the middle of this, you’ll be tarred with the same brush -’ 

Selena gritted her teeth. ‘I gave up on easy a long time ago. I never wanted this, but it’s _here_ , for me and for my friends and I’ve seen too many of _them_ break or compromise and -’ 

But then Lillian’s wand jerked back up, and the Stun almost knocked Selena off her feet before she Shielded it at the last second. And as the fight exploded back into being, Selena remembered one thing: Rourke women didn’t give up without a fight.

* * 

Across the rooftop, Scorpius was remembering that Prometheus Thane didn’t give up without a fight, either. Even against two of his protégés. 

Perhaps that made it worse, he thought, when he saw Thane not simply block one of his Stuns, but _catch_ it, energy crackling in the palm of his hand. ‘Mediocre,’ Thane proclaimed. ‘You know I have hanging shields up to absorb surface impacts -’ 

Scorpius glowered. ‘You know you’re a smug, murderous prick -’ 

‘Don’t get drawn into it,’ said Eva. She moved more like Thane, the same fluid motions, the same calm control. If possible, her eyes were even icier, more detached. ‘He’ll crawl in your head and get you angry and make you doubt yourself.’ 

Thane’s cold blue eyes flickered to her, and he parried her next spell as if swatting away a fly. ‘And you, _my dear_ , will start with lighter spells to try to assess my weakness and then throw everything you have at what you _think_ is a breach. A fine plan, except you’re always in favour of using overwhelming force, and what do you do if that doesn’t _work_ and you’ve blown your best shot?’ 

Scorpius saw Eva stumble as she Shielded against his retaliation. ‘It’s worked so far.’ 

‘Of course.’ Thane inclined his head and side-stepped like flowing water. ‘You were never one to plan ahead. You win by sheer dogged determination and, often, pure nastiness. How’s that worked out for you since swapping sides?’ Eva didn’t answer, so his gaze landed on Scorpius. ‘And you -’ 

‘And me.’ Scorpius grinned, let his teeth show a little too much. ‘Feeling like projecting your daddy issues all over me yet?’ 

That actually got a flinch from Thane, and Scorpius lunged forward, taking a heartbeat extra to pool his magic before he hurled his next blast. Thane was hit on the shoulder, but with a spark of protective energies, and while he staggered, he stayed upright. 

His eyes were even colder once he looked up. ‘Do you want to open that can of worms? Or will you stick to cute jibes, boy, while someone else does the heavy lifting for you?’ A gout of fire burst from Thane’s wand, and while Scorpius’ shield saved him from burning, the searing heat forced him back. ‘Do you _have_ more than clever words? Perhaps some spell you learnt off Weasley or Potter which they can do better? Or are you going to try to distract me with a parlour trick of an illusion?’ 

Eva retaliated against the fire with a spray of water that came low, threatening to drench Thane’s legs and the floor under him, but he whipped his wand down. The water bunched together - then burst up, a protective wall of ice against which Scorpius’ next spell splashed harmlessly. 

Her eyes fell on Scorpius, and her voice was low and tight. ‘Don’t let him crawl in your head. Just _fight_ him.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

Then Thane exploded the wall at them, and Scorpius had to throw himself to the ground to not be shredded by shards of ice. Eva held her ground, but she staggered under the force of keeping her Shield up, and when Thane’s wand lashed out again, his next blast hit her in the gut. 

‘You know, my dear, I always expected _better_ of you,’ Thane sneered as she hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and to Scorpius’ horror, she didn’t rise. Thane turned to face him as he clambered to his feet. ‘Less so of you. Or are you going to blame someone else for how you can’t beat me? _Your_ father, maybe?’ 

‘I’m not here for my father,’ said Scorpius, breathing coming raggedly. ‘I’m not even coming here for _answers_.’ 

‘Ah.’ Thane sounded bored. ‘Justice, then.’ 

‘Fuck that. Justice is what the wider world brings down. It’s you and me. You turned me into a weapon, you hurt and killed my friends, you killed _Nat_.’ Scorpius’ jaw tightened. ‘And it’s been you and me since the first, hasn’t it?’ Then he lunged, and the two of them burst into a fresh onslaught of magic and fury. 

Scorpius ducked and weaved, he Shielded and blasted, and even managed one of Thane’s own tricks after a third volley when he caught an oncoming blaze of energy with his wand. It hung between them, crackling and sparking as they both wrenched at it, tried to bring it rocketing back under their control. 

‘Of _course_ you want answers,’ yelled Thane over the snapping of magical power. ‘You’ve got that question, the one you’ve _always_ had: Why you?’ 

‘It doesn’t matter!’ Scorpius lied. ‘I know you used me. I know we weren’t trying to _kill_ Raskoph together, we were building him up, even if _he_ didn’t know it. I know you manipulated me into thinking rescuing Selena was my idea.’ 

‘Your father really _did_ break.’ Thane wrenched his wand to one side and then the power exploded, knocking them both staggering back. ‘I wonder if you’ll break as easily?’ 

‘Except you don’t _want_ me to.’ Scorpius reeled, catching his balance. ‘You want something better, don’t you? That’s why you sided with Lillian. You weren’t about burning the world to ashes; you actually _believed_ , didn’t you?’ He saw a muscle twitch in the corner of Thane’s jaw and plunged forward, sending a swift array of sparking blasts against his defences, forcing him to parry and step back, and round they moved, round and round the rooftop. ‘You never wanted to be this inconsequential _thug_ , but that’s what you are. That’s why you pretend to be _better_ , to have a code, even though you _don_ _’t_.’ 

‘If I didn’t have a code, you’d be dead in the Forbidden Forest -’ 

‘Kids weren’t _supposed_ to die at Hogwarts! You weren’t being benevolent, you were following the damned plan. You _would_ have killed Rose and I at Monte Carlo, but _she_ beat you.’ Scorpius caught Thane’s next blast, deflected off into harmless thin air. ‘I know you’d have killed her or Albus or Matt at Ager Sanguinis, but _Eva_ stopped you, the one opponent you didn’t expect. You’re smart and you’re powerful but you are _nothing_ more than a brute for hire with delusions of grandeur.’ 

Thane’s lip curled. ‘And yet, you see so much of yourself in me.’ 

‘Of course I do.’ Scorpius grimaced as his next spell deflected off Thane’s shield. ‘Poor little rich boys with family names to tar us black, to make us fit so poorly in the shiny happy world? I don’t know if you wanted me to rise _above_ it like you couldn’t, or if you wanted to break me and make me just _like_ you. I don’t know if _you_ knew.’ 

‘I don’t know if it matters,’ said Thane, but the superior glint was gone from his eye, nothing but icy cold left in his gaze. ‘It ends here anyway. And do you really think you can beat me?’ 

Scorpius cocked his head to one side, gaze flickering across the wide expanse of the tower, of Selena still locked in conflict with her mother, of the clouds beginning to part above. He drew a slow breath. ‘No.’ 

Then Eva Saida shot Thane in the back. 

It had taken some time to manoeuvre their fight. Thankfully, Thane was a fluid fighter who liked moving. Thankfully, he’d assumed Eva down for the count. Thankfully, he’d become even more entrenched in the argument than Scorpius had. 

‘You really should have worried about _her_ more than me,’ he told Thane as he slumped to the floor, Stunned and stiff and unable to answer. Scorpius padded over and plucked his wand out of his rigid hand. ‘You didn’t make _me_. _We_ _’re_ not alike. You made _her_.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Eva, getting to her feet with obvious difficulty, her voice thick. ‘But it’s harder for him to conjure this noble self-image if he’s comparing himself to an Algerian street rat.’ 

Then a blast of magic blazed between them, and they reeled to see Selena still locked in the fight against her mother, the odd spell going wild. Both turned, wands levelled on the pair, and Scorpius raised his voice as they approached. 

‘Madam Chairman, I might submit you’re _surrounded_.’

* * 

Lillian looked from her daughter to the oncoming duo. It was as if she’d aged a decade in the last few minutes of fighting, as if the icy winds had carved new lines into her face. But she did lower her wand, and Selena’s heart stopped thudding in her throat. 

‘This does no good for _any_ of you,’ sighed Lillian. ‘Selena, you’re submitting yourself to a _lifetime_ of being the daughter of the woman who betrayed the world. There will be _nowhere_ you can go that will be free of that stigma. And if not for me, or not for my cause, or even _yourself_ , then stay quiet for others.’ She looked at Scorpius. ‘How many people did you kill on my behalf when you worked for Prometheus Thane, Mister Malfoy?’ 

‘I remember,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘And I’m done running from consequences. That’s a family legacy that needs to end. I’m ready to stand up and tell the truth; there are things I regret and things I’ve done that were wrong, but _bring it on_. How do _you_ feel about _your_ chances?’ 

Lillian’s gaze barely flickered before she turned to Eva. ‘And you, Miss Saida. Your pardon is more about politics than action. I even _supported_ it. If the Convocation falls, if I fall, then how do you think it ends for you? You think they finish the hearing and let you off? Or do you think _anyone_ ever associated with the Council of Thorns is getting pardoned? Especially a former agent who had my _full_ support?’ 

Eva flinched. ‘I’ll be lucky to dodge a Dementor’s Kiss.’ 

Scorpius did tense at that. ‘We can take measures, Eva, we can explain things -’ 

‘Maybe we can, maybe we can’t.’ Eva lifted her wand a half-inch. ‘I didn’t try to change so I’d be forgiven. I didn’t try to be better so I’d be rewarded. If this is how it must be, then so be it. I made my peace with condemnation a _long_ time ago.’ 

‘We’ve always sorted stuff out ourselves. The world can do it, too.’ Selena let out a low, shaking breath. ‘So, there it is, Mum. We get you out of here, and we _will_ tell the truth.’ 

‘And even if you somehow get out of this and kill all three of us,’ said Scorpius, ‘Rose and Albus know it, too. My father knows it. The truth is _out_ there.’ 

‘You might have wanted better for the world, Mum,’ said Selena, heart pounding so badly in her chest she thought it might break out. ‘And you might have wanted better for _me_. Maybe we even _deserve_ better than we’ll get. But we don’t get what we deserve, and we have to pick what we can live with. I _can_ live with these consequences. I can’t live with a lie built on all these bodies.’ 

Her mother took a step back. ‘This will ruin you, dear.’ 

‘I’ve been ruined before. I survived it.’ 

‘Not like this.’ Lillian’s expression creased. ‘I will not just roll over and confess. You have to make this stick. It’s going to be long months, maybe years, of the world going over everything that’s happened. And if you lose? What does that do to you?’ She took another step back. ‘And if you _win_? What does that do to you, to us -’ 

‘There’s no _us_ , Mum, not any more -’ 

‘Selena.’ Lillian closed her eyes. ‘It’s always been _us_. My only regret in all of this is how I’ve hurt you. And I know, now, it’s inevitable that I _keep_ hurting you. So all I can do is… what I must.’ And then she stepped up onto the edge of the North Tower, high above the thundering fall to rock and ice far, far below. 

Selena lunged forwards. ‘Mum, _don_ _’t_ -’ 

‘What _possible_ reason,’ she said, face creased into destroyed loss, ‘do I have to not?’ 

‘I -’ 

‘I’ve lost, even if you can’t prove this. The IMC will be destroyed by suspicion before I get cleared. Or they will lock me up and throw away the key. However it ends, one way or another, I will have _nothing_ , I will _be_ nothing -’ 

Selena was acutely aware that while Scorpius and Eva had their wands on Lillian, they weren’t moving or casting. Not when Lillian stepped up on the ledge, and not when she took one last step back. They could have done a hundred things, but still they hesitated, still they looked to her. 

It was a morbid sort of acceptance that the choice was hers, but Selena wouldn’t call her reaction a choice. There was no decision to her legs catapulting her forwards, no resolution to her hands snatching her mother by the arms and dragging her down off the ledge a split second before she could plunge into nothingness. ‘Like _hell_!’ 

Lillian collapsed against her, defeated and shrunken in a way which made Selena’s guts churn worse than the revelation of her mother’s monstrosities. ‘Why -’ 

‘You don’t leave me _again_!’ Selena’s throat was raw as she shook her mother by the shoulders. ‘You don’t get to do this, drop this on me, and then just _go_! I don’t care about the world’s judgement, I don’t _care_ what they decide, but you don’t do this and _abandon_ -’ 

Which was when Prometheus Thane exploded with light. 

Or, that was how it felt. Looking back, Selena realised she’d stopped paying attention to him as she fought with her mother. She’d stopped paying attention to _anything_ \- how the skies were clearing, clouds parting to show peerless blue, the rolling mountains of the Alps stretching away into endless white. How the black dots of broom-riding Thornweavers were gone, left for parts and reasons unknown. 

And in that moment, the three of them were so focused on their agreed course and the condemnation it would bring that they weren’t watching how Thane was writhing out of his Stun, how he was pulling a second wand from somewhere inside his robes. How the wand-tip flared - and then blasted outward with blazing, _blinding_ light. 

It probably, thought a detached part of Selena’s brain as she screamed, wasn’t even that powerful a spell. A heavy-duty _Lumos_ was not the worst thing in the world. But none of them were expecting it, and so they all reeled, dazzled. The best she could do by instinct was clutch her mother, a morbid mixture of a childish desire for comfort and a treacherous refusal to let her escape, but Lillian was as stunned as any of them. 

Then came Prometheus Thane’s voice, calm through the chaos. ‘I’m very sorry, Ms Rourke. But it seems the game’s up, and I’m going to have to breach our contract.’ 

Thudding footsteps, the faint whir of magic of a broom, rushing air - 

Selena was still blinking back spots when she saw Thane launching into oblivion on his broom. 

Scorpius swore and ran for the second broom, the escape vehicle that was supposed to be Lillian’s. ‘A second wand, I should have _remembered_ ,’ he swore. ‘Keep her secure, get her -’ 

‘ _Stupefy_!’ 

Which was when Eva Stunned Scorpius. 

For one horrid moment, Selena thought there were triple and quadruple crosses going on, but Eva only cast the one spell, just enough to knock down Scorpius so she could snatch up the broom instead. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told his prone form. ‘But there are _so_ many reasons it should be me, and not you.’ She swung her leg over the broom and turned to Selena, who was still trying too hard to catch up on her sight and everything going on to object. ‘Tell Albus - I don’t know.’ Eva made a low noise of disgust. ‘You’re good at figuring out what people really mean, and what they need to hear. Make something up. Tell him I said it.’ 

Then she launched into the air after the rapidly disappearing shape of Prometheus Thane. 

‘Shit.’ Selena didn’t release her grip on her mother, but she did flick her wand at Scorpius. ‘ _Ennervate_!’ 

The noise which tore from Scorpius’ throat was like a dying animal as he rolled onto one knee. ‘Damn it! Not fucking again, _not_ -’ 

And Selena tried to not remember everything she’d been told about how Methuselah Jones died. ‘Scorpius! She’s right!’ she snapped. ‘She’s the best with a wand and she’s got the most fucking _baggage_ and maybe that’ll help her beat him! But there is _nothing_ we can do about it, and we need to get Mum -’ 

Then there were thudding footsteps from the stairway, and, still blinking black spots from their eyes, Scorpius still shaking off a Stun, Selena still shaking off revelation that her mother had spearheaded a global conspiracy to unleash dark magic on the wizarding world, neither of them were in any state to do anything but blink owlishly at the half-dozen Thornweavers who burst onto the rooftop. 

‘Don’t move!’ snarled the lead one, who wore no dark robes and no masks, but levelled his wand at them like he meant business. Then he grinned. ‘Malfoy. Two Rourkes. Looks like it’s our lucky day. If you’re wise, you’ll throw down your wands and submit, as you should, to the Council of Thorns.’ 

Selena gawped at the dark wizard she would later learn was Erik Geiger. ‘And who the _fuck_ are you?’ 


	54. We Die Together by One Doom

‘It’s sick, Raskoph using golems,’ Matt rasped, still slumped with his back to the wall of the tiny office. ‘They were created by Jewish wizards, and usually to be _protectors_. Not to be stolen away and turned into tools, weapons. Especially not by a group like the Council.’ 

Rose finally tore her gaze off the door Albus had closed behind him. ‘You weren’t so condemning of the Templars for looting the magics in the first place.’ 

He struggled to sit up. ‘That’s not -’ 

She closed her eyes and let his protestations wash over her. This was not the time to argue, and it certainly wasn’t the time to challenge him on his occasional apologist tendencies. At the least, her criticisms of the Templars wouldn’t sound great after de Sablé. She turned back to him. ‘You’re our resident golem expert, then. How do we stop them?’ 

Matt paused and squinted. ‘You don’t stop them. They’re incredibly resilient, you know that. They absorb almost all direct forms of magic, and they’re very physically tough. Bombarding them with brute force is the one thing we’ve found which works.’ 

‘But Niemandhorn Castle is so bloody _sturdy_ that there’s nothing to bombard them _with_.’ 

Harley sat on the desk with his jacket off, rolling up his shirt-sleeves. He still looked a bit grey. ‘I can’t go toe-to-toe with more than one again. And that there’s touch and go.’ 

Rose’s lips thinned. ‘You took down the _dragon_ at Tomar, Matt.’ 

‘Because it was just _one_ golem, and it was so huge I could get close to it and change the words of power imbuing it. That’s the only other way to destroy them or stop them. But they’re rampaging infantry; are you really going to pin one down and shove your hand in its mouth? And even if you do, that’s just _one_.’ 

‘What about wrestling control of them from Raskoph? That’s got to be possible; Eva did it to the golems in Ager Sanguinis -’ 

‘The golems probably have Raskoph’s name inscribed on their paper. Changing that will be what Eva did in Ager Sanguinis, but I don’t think the golems were activewhen she did that.’ 

She frowned. ‘Do you think they’re following Raskoph’s orders or the group’s?’ 

‘There are two ways to command a golem that I know of,’ sighed Matt. ‘The first is to give them a simple, ongoing command, like the golems in Badenheim. They were activated by the security wards and then they were set to kill everything in sight. But in that case, the golems are stuck in one place. The alternative is to write the name of the person whose orders they should follow amongst the words. And it has to be one person, not a group.’ 

‘So this has to be Raskoph.’ She looked up. ‘What I got out of the memories of this Thornweaver suggests they follow him, first and foremost. So Raskoph can order the golems to stand down.’ 

Harley snorted. ‘He’ll get right on that.’ 

‘Maybe if he’s forced to.’ Rose clasped her hands together and broke into a pace. ‘If he stands to lose something else, something better, instead.’ 

‘Do you _have_ anything better?’ 

She paused, expression folding tighter. ‘What if Raskoph died?’ 

Harley’s eyebrows raised and the House Elf looked at Matt, who shrugged. ‘The golems should just… stop.’ 

‘Not even finish their last orders?’ 

Matt grimaced. ‘I don’t know. The dragon in Tomar went on a rampage, but I think the dragon was charged with defending that place and viewed it as under attack. This is an _ancient_ form of magic; my conclusions are from comparing myths to what we’ve seen. I wasn’t even certain changing the words in the Tomar dragon would work.’ 

‘So it’s that easy,’ sighed Harley. ‘Force Raskoph at wand-point to surrender, _or_ kill him. When he’s right now sat in the middle of the Convocation meeting chambers, surrounded by golems and his own men, with a bunch of prisoners to be used as hostages. Don’t suppose anyone knows his convenient weakness?’ 

‘I have it on good authority that he can’t fly,’ Rose snarked in a sing-song voice. She rubbed her temples, not because she needed to think, but because she didn’t like her thoughts very much. ‘Okay. I guess I have to go in there.’ 

‘There - where?’ Matt sat up with a groan. ‘Into the chamber?’ 

‘It’s where he is.’ 

‘And you’ll do what?’ Harley made a face. ‘Die excitingly?’ 

‘Not my plan.’ Hands on her hips, she turned to them. ‘Raskoph needs to die. We can’t kill him from afar. So the plan is simple: I’m going to go in there. And I’m going to kill him. At which point, the prisoners in the chambers, who are _mostly_ guarded by golems, can overwhelm the remaining Thornweavers and then sweep through the Castle to help everyone else.’ 

‘You make it sound real simple,’ said Harley, ‘when instead you’re going to open the door and get your head blown off the moment you point your wand at him.’ 

Matt shook his head. ‘I fought him. He is a demon in a battle,’ he said, struggling to get to his feet. ‘At the least, you can’t do this alone.’ 

‘Matt, you have to stay here.’ She crossed the room and at the lightest touch of his shoulder, he slumped back down. ‘There’s nothing more you can do.’ 

Grey eyes blazed as he glowered up at her. ‘I know what you’re doing, Rose. I am not going to let you go on a pointless suicide run out of - of _guilt_.’ 

‘This isn’t a pointless suicide run, but I _am_ guilty -’ 

‘You can’t balance the scales! A life for a life - it doesn’t _work_ like that.’ 

She sank onto her haunches before him, feeling her guts coil around her heart. ‘No, it doesn’t. That’s not what this is about. I know what you thought of me when you yelled at me; you’d always _wanted_ me to be better, stronger, these past two years.’ The clenching began to wind up her throat. ‘Not living or dying for the pain of losing Scorpius. And then I went and _killed_ for the pain of losing Scorpius. You always wished me better than that.’ 

His movement was sluggish when he grabbed hold of her jacket, but fear and fury fired pistons in his hand to make his grip iron tight. ‘I’d rather you didn’t die _at all_ , and certainly not because I said something bloody stupid -’ 

‘This isn’t about anything you’ve said or even anything I’ve _done_ , Matt. This is about - about what we can live with.’ 

‘Rose -’ 

‘I don’t mean bloody killing myself, Matt. I _mean_ that there is something that I _can_ do, something that may save lives. And after all we’ve seen and done, refusing to even try? That’s something I _can_ _’t_ live with.’ 

She watched him chew on her words, watched him near choke on them, but then his jaw tightened and his gaze on her grew cold. ‘You come back. You hear me?’ 

‘I will.’ The promise tasted like ashes. 

‘Do I get to stay here with him?’ Harley jerked a thumb at Matt. 

‘I need you near me. Don’t come in the chamber, just get close enough to gauge the room.’ Rose turned to him. ‘When everything goes to hell, I want you to start Apparating the badly injured out of there. I don’t care where you take them, so long as it’s out of the firing line.’ 

Harley slumped. Not with, she thought, a reluctance to fight, but almost the opposite. For all his manner, he did not seem pleased at relegation to a support role in the coming scrap. ‘Do I get to get _you_ out of there, too?’ 

Her lips thinned. ‘If you get a chance, sure. Don’t worry, he’s not going to just blow my head off.’ 

Matt grabbed the edge of the desk and hauled himself up to slump against it. ‘And why the hell not?’ 

She unslung her bag, flipped it open, and rummaged around inside until she found what she was looking for. ‘Because,’ said Rose, pulling out a small glass vial of a clear liquid, ‘he’ll want something I have.’ 

They left Matt sat on the desk, crumpled and worn, and Rose thought she wouldn’t swap places with him for the world. However high the stakes, whatever the consequences of her failure, her fate - everyone’s fates - were in her hands, while all he could do was sit and wait and wonder, helpless. But she was done being helpless. Done standing idly by, done only scrabbling for the desperate survival of her and her friends. So she had to do this, even if she was alone. 

That was the deepest pang in her gut. Urging Scorpius to come back to her, when she wasn’t sure she could come back to him, and when she’d urged Albus to _not_ go to him, _not_ try to save him. But Albus had turned his back on her just the same, abandoned her just the same. There were no loyalties that could guide her, not to loved ones and not to morals. 

_What can we live with._   
  
Harley disappeared from her sight a split second before she rounded the final corner to appear in the huge, double doors of the main entrance to the Convocation’s meeting chamber. It was as sweeping and grand as ever, a semi-circle falling down to the central platform. The seats were all occupied with cowed and disarmed witches and wizards of the IMC, watched and guarded by the forces of the Council of Thorns, though Rose counted three golems for every human Thornweaver. 

Most eyes were on the central platform, which was a mess of broken glass and whipping winds. The huge windows granting that perfect, sweeping view of the Alps were shattered, and only Colonel Raskoph stood amid the wreckage, tall and still as iron even though he wasn’t saying a word. This did mean she had a split second before she was noticed, and then a golem was bearing down and a dozen Thornweavers rounded on her. 

Rose lifted the clear vial, pointed her wand at it, and took a deep breath. ‘Everybody stay where they are, or I break this.’ The acoustics of the chamber carried her voice down even to Raskoph, the cold wind tugging at his dark robes, and she saw him lift his stone-hewn face. 

‘Miss Weasley.’ The voice was so slow and deliberate she would have thought him uncaring if she didn’t know she’d already got his curiosity. She’d be dead otherwise. ‘Why should I care?’ 

‘Because this is something you want.’ Hoping her legs wouldn’t shake too badly, she started down the stepped aisle towards him, towards the chilled winds and his tall, impassive dark form. ‘Do you think I ran to the roof of the world, killed your men, and came away empty-handed? It wasn’t easy. There wasn’t much. But before Ultima Thule came down, I took a sample of the Styx.’ 

Raskoph’s frown was slight, but it was the most expressive she’d seen him. ‘Impossible.’ 

‘How do you think I kept Scorpius Malfoy alive? You know the Chalice was destroyed.’ She saw a Thornweaver twitch as she passed them, and stopped. ‘You could take this off me by force. You could try to Stun me or kill me or tackle me. But you have to be sure, _damned_ sure, that you can do it before I blast this or smash it, or that you can recover even a drop - that even a drop will be useful.’ 

Raskoph opened his hands, and his eyes were dark even across this distance as he stared at her. ‘I went a very long time without the waters of the Styx.’ 

‘That’s true. But now you’ve lost Phlegethon, Eridanos, Lethe. And those were all pale shadows of what you could create with the original source. And maybe you could dig up Ultima Thule yourself, but that will take months, weeks, _decades_ , and it will be watched. Guarded.’ She lifted the vial up a half-inch. ‘But if you walk away with this, today, your Council of Thorns has its weapon again. You only have so many golems, I bet, or you’d have used them before. But with this, you’re the threat you were a fortnight ago.’ 

‘Then why,’ said Raskoph, ‘are you offering this to me?’ 

Rose took a slow, dragging breath. ‘In return, you leave this people be. And you leave Niemandhorn.’ 

The silence was broken only by that wind howling through the broken glass. The skies were brightening, the clouds clearing, and Raskoph stood in the shattered window, a shadow against a shining, cold day. Then he lifted his hand and beckoned her closer. 

Her every step felt leaden, clumsy as she descended past the rows of staring prisoners, suspicious Thornweavers, impassive golems, down to the central podium. Raskoph’s hands were still open, dark like the spectre of death welcoming her to his realm, and she tried to slow the thudding of her heart as she approached him. It was so loud she almost couldn’t hear, couldn’t _think_ , though perhaps, Rose wondered, that was a good thing. If she stopped to think, she’d lose her nerve. 

The platform was more narrow than she’d expected, and once she reached Raskoph they weren’t more than six feet from the jagged, broken windows. His hand curled before her. ‘You will, of course, let me examine it.’ 

‘And then you just take it off me.’ 

He cocked his head. ‘I will hardly let everyone here go on _your_ word that this is what you say.’ 

It wasn’t enough. Not yet. But she couldn’t delay any more, and now was the time it would go very, very wrong, one way or another. Rose drew a slow, shuddering breath, and extended the vial. ‘You’re right to be cautious,’ she said. ‘Because I lied.’ 

Then she dropped the vial of mundane water, and the sound of it shattering came with the softest, collective sigh from the witches and wizards of the Convocation, their hopes dashed along with it. 

Raskoph’s expression twisted through anger and confusion, and his wand snapped out. ‘ _Expelliarmus_!’ Even if she’d tried, she couldn’t have kept hold of her wand, and the impact of even a mere Disarming from a wizard of his power had her stagger back. It wasn’t difficult to look terrified, to back off towards the window as his wand whipped up in her face. ‘What _is_ this?’ 

_Maybe we get our happy life but we let evil win; in the world by letting it prosper, or in ourselves by breaking all our own rules._   
  
_Or we sacrifice the personal for the bigger picture._

It still wasn’t enough, so Rose gritted her teeth, looked him in the eye, and said, ‘The last victory of Cassian Malfoy.’ 

That made rage win out over confusion, and Raskoph stormed forwards. ‘Last? There was _no_ victory of Cassian Malfoy. I killed him, I defeated him -’ 

‘You may have killed him. But _he_ defeated _you_ , Colonel. He denied you Ultima Thule, then and forever, and you will _never_ know its secrets, _never_ unlock its powers. You may kill everyone here today, but you’re finished; a pathetic footnote of Grindelwald’s rise, a relic losing a war all over again.’ 

‘ _May_ kill everyone here today?’ He was in her face now, hand snatching out to grab her by the front of her jacket. It was like being clutched by granite, his gimlet eyes glinting with endless fury. ‘I _will_. And you _last_ , you after I’m done with every torture, every punishment -’ 

‘May.’ Her throat was dry, voice coming out as rasping as his. It made her sound determined, Rose thought, instead of scared witless. ‘May, because Cassian Malfoy told me something, and now I know how to beat you.’ She snatched hold of his wrist, of his jacket, clinging to him just as tightly as he to her. ‘ _You can_ _’t fly_.’ 

Then she hurled them both backwards, out the shattered window, and into oblivion. 

Cold air. Rushing winds. White everywhere; white of Niemandhorn Castle, vanishing with surprising speed, white of the Alpine peaks, white of the ice and snow far below, white of the passing clouds, broken only by the specks of blue and hope - 

And the darkness of Raskoph, writhing with her, reminding her that her work wasn’t done yet. Round and round they tumbled as they fell, but then somehow she’d yanked his wand from his hand - but it went flying into nothingness, too, and he shoved her away, expression a rictus of rage and shock and, as he, too, realised what was happening, fear, and down they fell - 

_Scorpius. I_ _’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry -_

Then a solid shape slammed into her from the side, hard enough to knock the breath from her, and distantly Rose thought she hadn’t seen any rocky outcroppings jutting out, and surely those would have hurt more, but now she wasn’t falling any more, and Raskoph’s black shape was still tumbling below - 

‘I’ve got you! Hang on!’ 

And Albus clutched onto her as he dragged his broom up out of its wild dive. She was still too numb from shock and frost to do anything but be limp in his arms, though as they slowed she found she could curl her fingers in his jacket, found she could begin to think again, _breathe_ again, maybe even speak again. 

‘ _What the hell did you think you were doing?_ ’ he bellowed, red-faced, almost shaking her as he brought the broom to a slow ascent. 

‘I was - I -’ Words felt strange in her mouth, like her mouth was made for nothing more than screaming. She hadn’t expected to use them again, and so Rose just slumped there for long, thudding heartbeats more. Eventually she swallowed hard, and managed, ‘Killing Raskoph.’ 

‘And _yourself_?’ Albus shrieked. ‘Are you _absolutely mental_?’ 

_Maybe_ , Rose thought, then squinted up at him. ‘What’re _you_ doing here?’ 

‘I -’ He stopped at that, brought the broom to a halt. ‘Scorp and Eva chose their fight. But you _asked_ me to stay. I didn’t get very far before I remembered I promised it would be different this time.’ His face slumped. ‘And that I wished we were better.’ 

‘If it helps,’ she slurred, light-headed and feeling a little drunk as the adrenaline worked its way out of her system. ‘This would have probably been your role in the plan even if you’d been there. But, good timing. Top marks.’ Maybe this was what it felt like to be Scorpius, Rose wondered. Doing stupid things and then saying stupid things. But she had to smile, a stupid smile splitting her face in two, and one Albus clearly couldn’t help but return. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘Any time.’ Albus looked up to the shattered window from which she’d leapt, and frowned. ‘I hope you had a plan for after this point. Or was that everyone else’s problem?’ 

‘The golems should be following Raskoph’s orders. With him dead, the Thornweavers are vastly outnumbered.’ 

They made it back to the window and into the meeting chamber to find the tables had turned. Golems were slumped, inanimate shapes, and their collapse and the chaos had made the Convocation prisoners fight back. A wand would beat a fist, but not ten fists, not at close quarters, and while there were witches and wizards with fresh injuries, the handful of Thornweavers had been overcome. 

Albus set the broom down on the platform to a cheer from the survivors, and Rose decided to celebrate making it to solid ground by falling to her knees and throwing up. The world spun and churned around her, focus narrowing to nothing but the hard stone under her and everything her body was doing. It wasn’t _supposed_ to be doing anything, she supposed, so nausea and tightness of breath and her heart clawing its way through her ribcage were all victories. 

They burnt, though. 

‘Here you go, girl.’ That was Harley, sitting down next to her and passing over his little handkerchief. ‘Reckon you can keep that.’ 

She wiped her mouth and blinked back watering eyes, and her voice rasped as she managed, ‘Thank you.’ 

Albus remained at her side, and she realised he still had a soothing hand on her back. She looked up to see a woman in the South African Crime Bureau’s uniform approaching, wearing a rather wry smile. 

‘Potter.’ 

‘Warrant Officer Pretorius.’ 

Pretorius looked down at her, then back at Albus, and cocked her head. ‘You people don’t do anything by halves, do you.’ 

‘We like to be thorough in saving the day.’ Albus’ expression tightened. ‘There are people out there -’ 

‘And we’re getting wands in the hands of security and sending them out there. The Chairman hasn’t been found.’ 

‘North Tower -’ 

Which was when Erik Geiger and his Thornweavers appeared in the chamber doorway with the bound Scorpius, Selena, and Lillian Rourke to be greeted by a whole lot more wands than they themselves brandished. 

Even from down here, Rose could see Scorpius beholding the sight of the liberated IMC personnel and _beaming_ as he turned to Geiger. ‘Did you take us to the wrong place? We can try again.’ 

It didn’t take long before Geiger and his men were disarmed and their prisoners untied, but Rose got to her feet just as Albus grabbed Pretorius by the arm. ‘I need you to trust me,’ he told her in a low, tight voice, ‘and arrest Lillian Rourke.’ 

‘ _What_?’ 

‘Or at _least_ get a group of security guards _you_ trust and hold her in confinement until my father gets here.’ His jaw tightened. ‘ _Please_ trust me.’ 

Pretorius looked at him like he was crazy, but she was gentle when she pulled her arm free. ‘Confinement I can manage. For her own safety. Under people I trust.’ 

Rose watched her as she hurried off, then felt herself swaying. ‘I may fall over again.’ 

‘Then it’s just as well I’m here!’ Scorpius had hurried towards them once freed, and now bounded across the platform to wrap them both in a bear hug. She clutched him so tight she didn’t think she’d let go again, and could almost feel the bewilderment in his embrace. He’d learn, eventually, what she’d done. But for the moment, the worst hadn’t happened, and she was here and he was here and they were all alive, alive, alive. Over his shoulder, she could see Selena still up at the doorway, watching Pretorius escort off Lillian. Matt had just made it to the chamber, probably hearing all the commotion. 

She closed her eyes and gave up giving a damn about the rest of the world, though a cold crept in as Albus let go and said, in a heavy, apprehensive voice, ‘Where’s Eva?’

* * 

Frozen wind whipped in her hair, in her face, but the skies above were clearing, bright and blue and shining, and so the dark shape of Prometheus Thane as he streaked away was an easy target. 

_No more running. Not from me. Not from you._   
  
They were neither of them brilliant fliers, but they didn’t need to play Quidditch or perform aerial acrobatics. He just needed to run, and she needed to chase. Maybe he saw her coming as they streaked through the icy skies away from Niemandhorn Castle, away from the battle and its devastation, and the devastation of the world that was to come with the truth. Maybe he was just playing it safe, but still he skimmed low, a dark shape against white snow, then turned towards the narrow passes of the nearby peaks. Niemandhorn Castle was at the top of Niemandhorn Mountain, but there was plenty of Alps left to hide in. 

And she was in no mood for hide and seek. 

Eva went high, picking up more speed out in the open, trying to keep a bead on Thane as his broom swung between narrow passes, jutting rock. If they got entrenched into a wand-fight, she was under no illusions she could win. He knew her every trick, had _taught_ her how to fight, and he was better, still, more talented and more experienced and simply nastier. Even on the top of the tower she hadn’t fancied her chances especially, and then she’d had the help of Selena, had the help of Scorpius - 

She ducked lower, picked up speed until she was sure she could see him almost directly below her, then dropped like a stone. 

Ice sliced at her face, and she still had to veer to avoid juts of rock, to compensate for the wind sharp enough to cut. He was almost at the end of this stretch of crevasses and stony crests, but he was still looking up at her when she was close enough to see, and her lips thinned with satisfaction. 

_Yes. Look at me._   
  
Her wand movement was conservative, and he was ready, so ready for her to bear down on him that when he emerged from the rocky expanse into the open and a dark shape lunged at him from his left, he only had his reflexes to go by. Thane veered wildly, spinning away from a threat he hadn’t quantified. 

If he did quantify it, he’d realise it was an illusion. But the heartbeat’s panic to distract him was all she needed to breach his defences with a second wave of her wand, and then her broom slammed into his, sending the two of them careening into thin air, tumbling into the snow with an impact enough to knock the air out of Eva’s lungs. 

But it also knocked the wand out of his hand, and thus was Prometheus Thane dismounted and disarmed by his oldest protégé using the favoured tricks of his latest. 

She would have liked the symmetry if she hadn’t been too busy kicking him in the chest. ‘Stay the hell down.’ 

Thane sprawled onto his back with a spray of snow, and only when Eva stopped, gasping for breath, wand levelled on him, did she realise how damned _cold_ it was out beyond the castle walls. For a long moment they stayed there, him flat and groaning, her trying to gather her wits. It took a minute before he lifted his head, aristocratic features rather wry, and said in an arch, superior voice, ‘Are you _really_ going to use that, my dear?’ 

‘I,’ she hissed, ‘am _not_ your _dear_. I’m not your weapon. I’m not _yours_.’ 

‘And yet, here you are. Chasing me when you didn’t have to. Furious at me when you don’t have to be.’ Thane pushed himself onto his elbows. ‘I’d say you care about me just as much as ever. So shall we stop pretending we’re at each other’s throats? There’s nobody else around.’ 

‘This isn’t a trick. I’ve not been playing white hat just to fool people. You need to be _stopped_ -’ 

‘ _I_ ,’ said Thane, ‘have been sitting in a prison cell. And before that, I’ve been fighting the good fight, killing members of the Council, saving lives. And do you really think that, once I’m away from here, I’m going to go on a rampage across the world? You know me better than that.’ 

‘It’s not about preventing you,’ she snarled. ‘It’s about making you pay -’ 

‘Giving me what I deserve?’ He cocked his head at her. ‘I _saved_ you, Eva.’ 

‘You made me a weapon -’ 

‘You would have had a _miserable_ existence in the _miserable_ Muggle world and would probably be _dead_ by now if it weren’t for me. I found you, I _elevated_ you. I gave you a life.’ 

‘Sending me to a school, finding me a _home_ \- _that_ would have been giving me a life!’ Her wand was threatening to shake so badly she had to hold it in both hands. ‘You took me under your wing because who suspects a nine year-old of being a spy? A fourteen year-old of being a killer? And then I was _brainwashed_ , I was your - your _plaything_ , so loyal to you because I’d never known _anything else_!’ 

‘My plaything?’ He looked genuinely sickened. ‘I raised you. I cared for you. I saw potential in you and wanted to give you a chance. Do you think I took in a child because it was _convenient_ for me, travelling the world like I did? Have you truly been so turned against me you think me a monster in _everything_?’ 

‘I don’t - it’s not -’ She had to gasp for steady breathing. ‘I know it’s more complicated than that. But you still turned me into a murderer. Still made the choices for me before I really _understood_ right from wrong. And I don’t - that isn’t the point, anyway!’ 

‘No, perhaps not. What _is_ the point, then?’ Thane arched an eyebrow, somehow still in impeccable control even when sprawled on the snow at the top of a mountain. ‘For you to bring me into custody? Perhaps we can be cell-mates -’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘If your _friends_ want to do the “right thing” and tell the truth - and the points against _that_ have already been made - then Lillian Rourke is correct. There’ll be no pardons any more. There’ll be no benefit of the doubt. We’ll face the Dementor’s Kiss together. Does that make _any_ sense to you? You do the right thing, I do the wrong thing, and yet, we’re still doomed, together? I don’t want that for you -’ 

‘Don’t,’ she spat. ‘Don’t pretend this is for me.’ 

‘I’m not thrilled at the idea of incarceration and losing my _soul_ either. But what’s the gain, Eva? Practically, even _morally_?’ He lifted his hands. ‘You know me. You know I’m not one for petty vengeance. You know how much I’ve been paid for this job? A lot. Enough to go find a corner of the world, far from the fallout of the Convocation and the Council, and just _live_. Did we ever do that, Eva?’ 

She flinched. ‘You won’t be happy with a quiet life -’ 

‘I don’t do this for the thrill. I did it for the money and then, _yes_ , I actually _believed_ in Lillian Rourke’s vision. That’s why I’ve not cut corners, that’s why I’ve only killed when I _had_ to -’ 

‘You are _not_ the saint you think you are, Prometheus.’ Her jaw tightened. ‘You see yourself as a professional, but I know where I learnt to be petty and learnt to be nasty. I learnt it from you, because you know the value of being feared, and sometimes, just sometimes, you _must_ be in control, whatever the cost.’ 

For the first time, she saw Prometheus Thane’s expression set in a way that suggested he _wasn_ _’t_ in control. But then he let out a slow breath. ‘Perhaps you’re right. The world does things to us, to us all. But now we have a chance, Eva. If we stay, we’ll be hanged to set an example, to show the world that evil must be destroyed. Not because anyone cares about what we did. Not because it makes anything better, or easier. Just so people can _pretend_ they’re superior, _pretend_ they’re safer, when all they want is the illusion at best, vengeance at worst. Really, Eva, who _benefits_ from my condemnation?’ 

She could hear Albus echoing those words in her ears, except he’d said them to her, about _her_. ‘This isn’t about wider justice, Prometheus. I don’t care about the Convocation, or whatever comes after. This is about _you and me._ ’ 

‘It is.’ He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate to not make her start. ‘So come with me. We’ll leave, we’ll go far away, and not be the thralls of wider powers who care about their _security_ , not right and wrong. There’ll be a quiet, sunlit corner of the world, and we’ll make it our own.’ Then he smiled, that soft smile she’d for a long time convinced herself he didn’t turn on anyone else. ‘It’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?’ 

Something inside her seized up, and she didn’t know if it was revulsion or desire. It _was_ what she’d wanted, over two years that felt like a lifetime ago, when he’d commanded her slavish devotion and she’d wondered, wanted, deep, deep down. 

She stepped back, snow crunching underfoot. ‘Not any more.’ 

His gaze tensed. ‘No. Now you want _him_. Now _he_ _’s_ the master who lifted you up from what you were and made you _his_ , and you’re just as blind as you were with me, so convinced it’s _different_. But you can’t have him, Eva. You can’t have your happily ever after. Did you think you _ever_ would? A suburban house with a white picket fence and two and a half children; did you _really_ think that would happen?’ 

Eva could taste bile. ‘That wasn’t the point. I didn’t change to get a _reward_ -’ 

‘But you wanted it.’ Thane moved, now, rising to one knee, still slow and deliberate. ‘You wanted to not be the weapon. You wanted peace. You bring me in, all you get is torment and death. But we can _go_ , Eva, we can _find_ peace.’ 

‘You don’t _deserve_ peace.’ Eva drew a shuddering breath. ‘And maybe I don’t, either.’ 

‘But the Kiss?’ Now his eyes widened and Eva realised the only thing she found scarier than when she’d thought Albus Potter was dead, was seeing fear in the gaze of Prometheus Thane. ‘We don’t deserve that. Or - or maybe I do, I don’t _know_ , but I don’t _care_. I still saved you, I still brought you from that place, I still - maybe I did wrong by you, maybe I used you, but I still helped you and if you have anything, _anything_ in your heart that resembles gratitude, you won’t surrender me to that…’ 

Her jaw tightened. ‘I can’t let you go, Prometheus, not after all you did to the world, to Scorpius, to _me_ -’ 

He had to know it was helpless. He had to know he wouldn’t make it more than a split second’s lunge before she reacted, before magic sparked out the edge of her wand and hit him. 

He couldn’t have known what spell she would cast. _She_ didn’t know what spell she’d cast, until blood sprayed out from his chest and he fell with a guttural cry. He crashed back onto the ground, red rivulets spreading out into the snow, and before she could think she’d thrown down her wand, fallen by his side to pull him into her arms. 

It wasn’t to help him. It wasn’t to save him, though she knew a dozen spells to staunch the bleeding or to subdue the pain, just as she’d known a dozen ways to knock him down without harm. But she still held him as he gasped, and he clutched at her, eyes wide, mouth working like a fish thrown on the shore. His breath wheezed, every rise and fall of his chest such clear agony, but his knuckles were white in their grip on her, and with every shudder her leaned closer. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she found herself saying, the words like sandpaper on her throat. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ and over and over she repeated it, even as she made no move to save him. Her hand was brushing his hair back, then her fingers trailing across his cheek, those chiselled features of lordly mastery and control she’d only obeyed, loved in her way, now twisted with pain and fear. She pulled him closer, kissed his forehead, rocked him, and though there were a thousand things she could think, of how much she hated him and how much she owed him and how much she loved him, all she could do was keep saying she was sorry. 

When he spoke, she thought it was a gasp of pain at first, but the croak became words, and she drew him in to hear it better. Hear the rattling breath, but then coming weakly - so, so weakly: ‘ _Go. Find some peace. Go. Go._   
  
_‘Go.’_   
  
Then he went still, and neither breathed nor spoke again. And Eva Saida knelt in the snow, holding the body of the man who’d made her a monster, the man who had saved her, and did nothing but weep. 


	55. Who Makes Us Free

Scorpius had been interrogated by Auror Santiago before, but that was in a different life when he’d been a hero. Then, he’d been freed when Hermione Granger appeared and proved his identity and the Portuguese government had not, in fact, condemned them all for unleashing a golem-dragon on the town of Tomar. Now he sat in a cramped, pale room, with one high window beyond which he could hear Muggle traffic and babbling voices. After several Portkey trips and stints in cells, he had no idea where in the world he was any more. It wasn’t the Portuguese Department of Law Enforcement, and Santiago had on occasion been joined by other officials with different names and different accents. None of them were friendly faces. 

‘Victor Holga.’ Santiago slapped a glossy picture onto the table between them, and the gurning image of a dead man wasn’t much friendlier than the glaring Auror. ‘You murdered him in his office in Copenhagen.’ 

‘After interrogating him.’ Scorpius drew a slow breath. ‘Torturing him. Yes.’ _Because he was with the Council, because he was going to get a_ lot _of people killed_. He bit his tongue. This wasn’t his first round with Santiago. Santiago only wanted the exact question answered, the exact fact confirmed or denied. 

‘You admitted to this in our first session. I’ve since gone back through the account of your time with Prometheus Thane you gave to the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You mentioned the assassination of Krauser, the attempted murder of Raskoph, the destruction of Horn’s equipment lab on the Ivory Coast -’ 

‘I didn’t assassinate Krauser; Thane killed Krauser. I was there, though, and I handled his security detail. Like you said, we’ve covered this.’ The first session had been a week ago. Santiago had gone everything with a fine tooth-comb, but Scorpius wasn’t sure what he was driving at, if this would end in a condemnation of him, or a condemnation of Lillian Rourke. Or both. 

‘You did. But you didn’t mention Holga to the British.’ 

‘I didn’t.’ 

‘You understand that you were shown lenience because they believed your actions had solely been against enemies of the IMC?’ 

‘As it turns out, either everyone was an enemy of the IMC, or nobody was an enemy of the IMC. It’s kind of hard to tell now.’ Scorpius flinched at the cold look in the Auror’s eye. Santiago was a big man, craggy-featured and humourless in the pursuit of his work. Scorpius hoped Harry had kept control of the situation, but he’d not seen him since the reinforcements had arrived at Niemandhorn Castle and Harry had arrested more or less everyone on principle. Harry would, he trusted, make sure the investigators into this mess were honest, reliable, uncorrupt. 

Was _anyone_ honest after a conspiracy at the heart of the IMC itself? 

‘I did get the idea the DMLE was nice to me because they thought I’d only hurt bad guys, yes,’ Scorpius amended, slumping in the hard-backed chair. ‘They didn’t seem to know about Holga. I didn’t volunteer it. You can understand why. But you _also_ know that after his death the IMC confirmed he was an agent of the Council?’ 

‘We’ve reopened the Holga case.’ Santiago’s brow furrowed. ‘Victor Holga was a powerful member of the IMC and did not agree with Lillian Rourke on every matter. _If_ Ms Rourke manipulated the Council of Thorns’ actions as a bid for power, we have to consider the possibility that Victor Holga was wiped out by agents acting on her behalf as a political gambit. That his associations with the Council were fabricated.’ 

Scorpius’ gut lurched. ‘I didn’t think - no, wait, Holga _admitted_ to me -’ 

‘I’ve seen the state Victor Holga was left in. You must be aware that, under torture, a great many deeds will be confessed to.’ 

_No. No. He was guilty. He wasn_ _’t a rival to Lillian Rourke she had me snuff out._ He clutched the table, rattling the manacles. ‘I will tell you,’ he blurted, ‘I will tell you _everything_ Holga told me, everything he admitted to, and if that lines up with what your investigations found _after_ he died - that means it was real, right? If he was just making up stories to make me stop, why would those stories line up with what your investigations found -’ 

‘Because you told Prometheus Thane what Holga told you, and so evidence could be planted to make the stories line up.’ 

His throat was tight, clogging up the bubbling underneath, deep inside. ‘Then - then you’re still considering Lillian Rourke’s guilt, she hasn’t got off -’ 

‘Ms Rourke remains in our custody and the Office continues its investigations,’ said Santiago in the same flat, cold voice he always used. 

‘The Office?’ 

A grimace. ‘The IMC has been disbanded. There is a tentative accord of global law enforcement and judicial bodies to conduct an inquest into the charges lain at Ms Rourke’s feet and all their implications. The bureaucrats haven’t named it yet. We’ll see how long it lasts.’ 

‘I swear -’ Scorpius had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could speak on, still clutching the edge of the cold, metal table between them. ‘I _swear_ I thought Holga was crooked, I _swear_ he told me he _was_ crooked, that he was going to sell out those relief workers in the Azores. And there _was_ a Council attack there, but the IMC _was_ ready for it because we leaked the knowledge -’ 

Santiago held up a hand. ‘I believe you, Mister Malfoy. But now you understand why I’ve gone through everything with you. Every detail, every story, over and over. Nothing can be taken for granted in light of this conspiracy. Everything we knew must be questioned again.’ 

Scorpius heard the inference in Santiago’s words and stared at the table. _He believes I believe it. It doesn_ _’t mean I’m_ right _. It doesn_ _’t mean Holga_ was _a bad guy._

‘It’s unfortunate,’ Santiago continued, ‘that the individuals the Hogwarts Five have accused of being Ms Rourke’s co-conspirators are almost all dead.’ 

Nat Lockett’s body had been retrieved by Scorpius before reinforcements arrived at Niemandhorn. She’d been tiny in his arms as he’d brought her out of the dark dungeons and into the bright sunlight of the meeting chamber, to be laid to rest with the other casualties. To be, until the stories started, an innocent victim instead of a collaborator with evil. 

Albus had found Prometheus Thane’s corpse, broken on the mountainside, frozen in blood and frost and wind. Nobody, not in the mountains or at Niemandhorn, had found any trace of Eva Saida. 

But Scorpius hadn’t seen Albus since that day, or Rose, or Selena or anyone else. Just his guards escorting him from holding cell to holding cell until he was here, in the cold bright light above Santiago’s dark, piercing eyes. 

‘ _Almost_ all,’ continued Santiago, and he put the picture of Holga back into his manila folder. ‘It’s your lucky day, Mister Malfoy. You have a visitor.’ 

_Rose_. But that made no sense, not if Santiago was talking about co-conspirators, and Scorpius squinted. ‘A visitor?’ 

‘He surrendered himself to the Office yesterday. He had only one request, and with his cooperation thus far, we’re inclined to let him see you.’ Santiago stood, and gestured to the door. 

Scorpius stared as two burly wizards escorted his father in. ‘You _surrendered_?’ 

‘Your father has given us a full account of all of his dealings with Lillian Rourke. Including copies of business transactions, names of further involved individuals. It’s helping the Office tremendously.’ Santiago looked between them. ‘There’s more. But I’ll let you talk first. And give you the news after.’ The three law enforcers exited, leaving Scorpius shackled to a table and staring at Draco Malfoy. 

Nothing was said until Scorpius managed, the words feeling too big for his mouth, to repeat, ‘You surrendered.’ 

‘I did.’ While Scorpius, after all this time of incarceration, wore a scruffy jumpsuit, Draco was still in his fine robes. A little rumpling had not ruined his poise, and it was with meticulous care that he pulled up the chair. ‘I had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. I had hoped you wouldn’t try to bring down Lillian Rourke. You’ve cast the world into chaos.’ 

Scorpius shrugged, a move which rattled the manacles. ‘Damned if I know. I’ve been here a week and Santiago’s told me bugger all. I don’t even know where _here_ is, they dragged me through Portkey after Portkey without saying.’ 

Draco’s lips thinned, and he looked up to the high window. ‘We’re in New York. The Americans pushed the Council out early in the war and have had the infrastructure to resist the worst of the IMC’s corruption, or so we think. They’re the closest to neutral arbiters in all of this.’ 

‘Harry’s not in the driving seat?’ 

‘Potter has his hands full with Britain. As does Granger; she’s acting Minister, to absolutely _nobody_ _’s_ surprise.’ 

Scorpius planted his hands on the table and leaned forwards. ‘And Rose? Albus? The others -’ 

‘I don’t _know_.’ Draco’s jaw tightened. ‘I’ve heard the global news. Not the particulars. And the global news - the _globe -_ is going to be caught up in the question of Lillian Rourke for a very, very long time. Nobody knows what to believe, who to believe.’ 

‘Until you emerged.’ 

‘I know enough to condemn a lot of people. Including myself.’ 

Scorpius drew a deep breath. ‘Why? You could have stayed hidden. The world’s a big place and you’re not the biggest fish it has to fry.’ 

‘I could.’ Draco met his son’s gaze. ‘But then we would never speak again, would we.’ 

‘We’ve not had a goodconversation in a while, even by _my_ perception of time.’ 

‘And I want to change that. I know that can’t happen if I stay on the run. Aside from the impracticalities, you’d never begin to forgive me if I hid from what I’ve done.’ Draco’s brow knotted. ‘Even if I did so much of it for you.’ 

Scorpius flinched. ‘Don’t _say_ that. I’ve not asked people to do these things, _all_ the things they’ve done for me. I didn’t want it.’ 

‘I didn’t have a _choice_ , Scorpius; if I didn’t help Lillian distribute Lethe, help prop her up with finances and connections and keep the Council spinning while she turned it into the monster she could pit herself against, she’d have _killed_ you.’ 

‘What about _before_ then?’ he spat. ‘That’s how they kept you. How’d they _get_ you, Dad?’ 

Draco hesitated. ‘It began as a little thing. Just a little thing. And then got bigger, but even _then_ , I started it for the family -’ 

‘No.’ Scorpius tried stabbing a finger at him, but the manacles jerked his hand halfway, and all he did was rattle indignantly. ‘No, our family needed you to be a _father_ , a husband. To care. To support. You’re talking about your father, your grandfather; you’re talking about dead men you shouldn’t have tried impressing even if they _weren_ _’t_ corpses. You didn’t learn from the Voldemort Wars, did you, Dad? Not really. You saw the Malfoy name ruined by it, and you thought _that_ was what needed fixing. And all you did was make the _exact_ same mistakes.’ 

His anger echoed off the confined interrogation room, bouncing off walls of depressing beige and drowning out the warbling of New York beyond the high window. With every syllable they seemed to strike Draco like knives, and by the time silence reigned again, his father sat slumped in his chair, all dignity faded, reduced and defeated. 

‘My father,’ he said at length, bowing his head, ‘surrendered after the war and told the Ministry everything he knew, everything he’d done. He begged forgiveness for the lives he’d taken, the lives he’d ruined. It did him little good, as he died before his reduced sentence was over. And I knew him well. His remorse wasn’t real. Or, it was… detached. He’d killed Muggle-borns and Muggles and sympathisers over two wars. He wasn’t sorry he’d done it. He was sorry he’d been on the wrong side. But he still surrendered and he still confessed, because he thought that would give the family - give my mother and I - a chance. 

‘I resented him and admired him for that. Resented him for his choices, for his deeds. Resented him for losing.’ Draco’s frown deepened. ‘I admired him for, at least, taking on the burden to save us. And for years I’ve told myself I’m better than him. Even with all I’ve done, all the help I gave the Council, I told myself I was better than my father. Because at the least I am not a _murderer_.’ 

_I am_ , thought Scorpius, and his throat tightened again. 

‘But my father surrendered himself for his family.’ Draco opened his hands. ‘And how can I be better than him, if I’m not even _as_ good as him? And how can I be better than him, if I don’t offer _actual_ remorse? I can’t just be sorry I lost. I have to be sorry I did it.’ 

Scorpius had to swallow hard before he could talk again. ‘I left home before I knew you worked for the Council.’ 

‘We had difficult times -’ 

‘Don’t.’ His breath tore up his insides. ‘You still made living with you hell. I couldn’t _wait_ to get out. I still resented every holiday break from Hogwarts. You didn’t need to sell out to a bloody worldwide conspiracy of evil to be a _bastard_ , Dad. And maybe I can’t judge you for the bad decisions you made with the Council, but I sure as hell can judge you for the bad decisions you made at home.’ 

Draco stared at him for a moment, then slumped again in his chair. ‘I know. Perhaps I inherited more of my father than I knew. Perhaps I was never better than him, after all - I don’t know. I accept it doesn’t matter.’ His gaze fixed on the table. ‘But I know I can never make amends for that by running, either.’ 

‘I’m not -’ 

‘I’m not _asking_ for your forgiveness here and now, Scorpius.’ His eyes snapped up, steely grey. Scorpius knew the hint of blue in his own gaze came from his mother, one of the many softenings she’d given him. ‘I know it’s not that simple. I’ve turned myself in for several reasons, and some of them are about _my_ father, and many of them are about me, and about Astoria, but two of them are about you. I’m asking for a chance. And I can’t have that if I’m on the run. I don’t need an answer. I just want a _chance_. We have time.’ 

Scorpius bit the inside of his mouth, unable to meet his father’s gaze any longer. ‘Probably a lot of time, if they’re going to lock us both up and throw away the key.’ 

‘That’s the second reason I’m here for you.’ Draco gestured to the door. ‘I didn’t cooperate on condition of them letting me _see_ you. I cooperated on condition of leniency. For _you_.’ 

Scorpius tried to shoot to his feet, but the manacles stopped him with another furious rattle. ‘You can’t -’ 

‘I can, and I have. Let me do _this_ much. Let me fail at the little things that matter, let me fail at being a good father or even a good man, Scorpius. But let me have this one, grand gesture.’ 

The door swung open, and Santiago came in with a ring of jangling. ‘It’s your lucky day, Mister Malfoy. Junior.’ 

Scorpius tried to reel back. ‘You can’t do this -’ 

He was trying to escape the manacles and yet cling to them, and so of course could do nothing as Santiago released him. ‘I’ll escort you out of here, return your personal effects, and then you’re free to go. You’ve got someone waiting for you in the lobby.’ 

‘I don’t -’ Scorpius flapped as Santiago hauled him to his feet, aghast gaze landing on his father. ‘Draco, this isn’t how it works -’ 

‘It is today,’ said Draco Malfoy, cool and collected, as if being left in a cramped interrogation room was a masterpiece of manoeuvring. ‘And, a chance, Scorpius. That’s all I ask for.’ 

Then Santiago frog-marched Scorpius from the room. After the long week in cells and shackled to tables, he was weak enough to be putty in the big man’s hands, to be shoved down a long corridor with ease. 

‘I thought you’d be happy, Mister Malfoy,’ said Santiago. ‘You’re a free man, and with your father’s help, the Office really _can_ bring down the Rourke Conspiracy. It’ll be a long road, but the world has half a chance of peace. And he gets whatever he deserves, which by all accounts I figured would be icing on the cake.’ 

Scorpius stopped fighting, because now they were going down a long stairwell and his survival instincts had kicked in over desperation. He looked up at the big man. ‘If my father came in yesterday, and you knew you were letting me go,’ he said, voice croaking, ‘what the hell was that charade about Holga?’ 

‘Let’s get some things clear, Mister Malfoy. Letting you go has nothing to do with if you’re guilty or innocent, has nothing to do with what you deserve. Your father’s a bigger fish. That’s all.’ Santiago shrugged. ‘So I suppose I was curious what sort of man I’m letting walk.’ 

Scorpius swallowed bile. ‘Did you reach a conclusion?’ 

‘I think you really believed you were killing bad men who needed stopping. And, for what it’s worth, I think you were probably right. Victor Holga was bad news. They all were.’ 

‘That doesn’t really answer my question.’ 

‘Yeah, I know.’ They’d reached the bottom of the steps by now, and stood at double doors leading to a long corridor that was brightly lit and well-furnished and a far cry from the stark imprisonment he’d been in for the last week. ‘You stop at the kiosk halfway down to pick up your belongings. Then there’s a changing room. Then you just carry on down the corridor and you’re in the lobby. And you’re free to go, Mister Malfoy.’ 

Auror Santiago left before Scorpius could press him any further, and so he supposed he had no choice but to leave. Anything else was madness. 

They’d cleaned his clothes, which was something, except they were the clothes he’d worn when dressing for the hot Sri Lankan sun and he was apparently now in New York in December. So it was in a t-shirt and shorts and with a lot of regrets that Scorpius emerged into what he now realised was the main lobby for the American Department of Magic’s Bureau of Investigation, New York. 

It was going to be a cold walk to the Transport Office and its Portkeys. 

‘Scorp!’ 

Albus looked like he’d aged about five years, but his beam was broad enough to split his face in two as he emerged from the lobby’s crowd and pulled him into a bear hug. ‘We thought they’d never let you out.’ 

The cold wasn’t so bad any more. Nor was the gnawing dread and guilt, and Scorpius couldn’t help but grin back as he broke the hug. ‘They didn’t lock _you_ up and throw away the key? I’m all astonishment.’ 

‘We got one day in the Ministry. Between Rose, Selena, and me, we could tell most of what we’d found.’ Albus frowned. ‘I guess someone had it in for you.’ 

‘Lillian had a bit of a hand in letting me out last time.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘I can’t blame them for being more thorough.’ _And truth be told, it_ _’s what I deserve_. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to do anything that might further dent the twinkle in his best friend’s eye. ‘Seems like everyone had more warning about my release than me.’ 

‘I was only told this morning. Abused Dad’s privilege to hop on a Portkey out.’ Albus hesitated. ‘Rose would be here, but it was sort of last minute and she’s been working with - you’ll laugh - the Canadians in getting Ultima Thule secured.’ 

‘They’re digging it up?’ 

‘They’re making sure nobody _else_ digs it up. She’s only liaising but she’s a bit back and forth - she’ll tell you all about it.’ 

Scorpius huffed. ‘Yeah. Yeah, we’ve got a lot to talk about.’ He drew a slow breath. ‘I bet they’re calling her the big shiny hero this time.’ 

‘Pretty much.’ Albus’ brow knotted. ‘You know she wasn’t giving up on you, or anything like that -’ 

‘I know.’ It hadn’t taken him long to hear how Rose had defeated Raskoph, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure how Albus saving her at the last second was _not_ planned. But that was one of the many issues for later. He looked up, corners of his eyes creasing. ‘Any word on Eva?’ 

Albus faltered, hands dropping by his sides. ‘No,’ he said, voice going rough. ‘No, she’s disappeared.’ 

‘Mate -’ 

‘You don’t know what she -’ 

‘I know she was mad about you. And I know she was a good person when she didn’t have to be. I can only guess why she’s left, but I don’t _need_ to guess that what you two had was real.’ 

Albus flinched, but before Scorpius could apologise even though he didn’t know why those words hurt, he pressed on. ‘So your father came clean?’ 

‘Looks like. My investigator thinks his confession, and everyone else he can implicate and all the evidence he can give, might bring Lillian down.’ Scorpius shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘And it means I can stand here. Free.’ 

‘He really cares about you -’ 

‘And he’s _also_ an arsehole who helped the Council and was a shitty father who made me feel like hell for years, which you know better than anyone and -’ Scorpius stopped, his throat tightening. ‘And he’s also my father. Yeah. I know. And maybe I’ll talk to him in the future, when he gets locked up somewhere with visiting rights, and maybe he’ll even be free some day and _maybe_ we’ll have some sort of relationship. I don’t know. But I do know something for sure.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

Scorpius looked from the huge doors leading into the winter-clad streets of New York, and back to the broad, honest face of his best friend. ‘I know I want us to go back to Britain, and be with my _family_.’

* * 

‘Digging’s going to take a while,’ said Rose, handing her mother a roll of parchment. ‘But the site’s secured. Wards up, Canadian authorities alerted.’ 

Most of her conversations with her mother this past week had happened while they walked and talked. This was no different, the both of them so busy that they didn’t organise proper meetings, just intercepted each other as they passed through the Ministry of Magic en route to other engagements. For Rose, at least, this was her last commitment. Her mother’s would go on a while longer. 

Hermione only gave the paper a perfunctory glance, before she passed it on to one of the many assistants following her like a flock of fussing geese. ‘I’m going to have to take your word for it. They’re not trying to excavate?’ 

‘It’s really _not_ top of their priority list. Maybe some day, but in the meantime, nobody’s going to break in, steal anything. It’s done.’ 

Hermione nodded, and they stopped as they reached a junction in the Ministry corridors. ‘You’re going to New York now, I take it?’ 

She shook her head. ‘I’m sure Al can bring Scorpius home fine.’ She’d been in the middle of the frozen wastes of Baffin Island when Albus had sent word, told her that Draco had emerged from hiding and made a deal and that maybe, just maybe not everything about the end of war would be shit. ‘And I have other priorities.’ 

Hermione’s surprise only lasted a heartbeat, then her lips thinned. ‘Give them my best.’ 

‘I will.’ Rose hugged her mother, now the busiest woman in Britain, and let her get back to her chaotic task of trying to set the world to rights, or at least, this little corner of it. No one person could set the whole world to rights, the current chaos a cautionary tale against such aspirations. 

It felt strange heading for Cambridge after her mind had been filled with digs and history and site planning, like slipping into an old life that couldn’t fit her now even if she’d wanted it to. But deja vu shattered into a million pieces when Matt opened the door to the flat they’d once shared and greeted her with only a blank look. 

‘I’m here for Selena,’ said Rose, voice low. ‘I only just got back from Canada.’ 

He hesitated before he opened the door to let her in. ‘She’s just hopping out the shower.’ 

_Great_. Rose slunk in, hands shoved in her pockets, not making a move as presumptuous as taking off her coat would feel. ‘How’ve you been?’ she asked his right shoe. 

‘Busy.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Some special interest group wanted to know about the Chalice’s destruction. Trying to make sure it’s not part of Lillian’s diabolical plans.’ 

Her throat tightened. ‘What did you -’ 

‘Of _course_ I didn’t tell them.’ His expression pinched. ‘We made it this far. I’m not going to condemn us now. Especially not since you almost…’ 

‘Matt…’ 

She tried taking a step forward, but that was enough to make him pull back, yank his coat off the rack. ‘I’ll give you two some privacy.’ 

‘You don’t need to leave _your_ flat on my account -’ 

‘No,’ said Matt, slipping around her, voice still low and taut. ‘It’s on Selena’s account. She’ll be pleased to see you.’ Then he left, and Rose could only watch him disappear with a sinking sense in her stomach. 

‘So _that_ was super awkward.’ 

Rose turned to see Selena come out of the bedroom, still in a dressing gown and towelling her hair. ‘I didn’t expect Niemandhorn to make him just forgive and forget.’ Her throat was hoarser than she’d anticipated. 

‘He’s glad you’re alive. Glad you’re doing well. I know he still wants the best for you.’ 

‘But it doesn’t wipe out what I did. I know that. I’m almost _glad_ he’s still angry at me.’ 

‘That,’ said Selena, corners of her eyes creasing, ‘sounds an awful lot like self-loathing.’ 

Rose wrapped her arms around herself. ‘If the world won’t punish us, who will?’ 

‘I don’t know. I think the world punishes us _plenty_. Even when we don’t deserve it.’ Then Selena sighed, and hurried over to pull her into a hug. ‘It’s good to see you.’ 

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come by earlier; I was already heading for Baffin Island when I heard they let you out.’ Selena hadn’t been officially arrested, not like Scorpius. But where Rose, Al and Matt had been questioned and released, the Office had kept Selena for much longer, going over her every story, her every nugget of information. It wasn’t that surprising. Even if Lillian Rourke’s daughter _wasn_ _’t_ in on the conspiracy, there was always the possibility she knew more. 

‘It’s okay; I’m pretty happy holing up here. It beats wandering the streets like a pariah.’ Selena pulled back, grimacing. ‘Nobody wants to help the daughter of a dark overlord with her shopping.’ 

Rose winced. ‘Miranda and Abena -’ 

‘Are _actually_ being great. Then again, Miranda’s grandfather killed a whole lot of people in the Wars and got locked up for life, so she can’t really throw stones. I feel it’s really given us something to _bond_ about. We can’t be as good friends as we used to be, Weasley, _your_ family aren’tmass-murderers. Tea?’ 

Rose nodded and sat down and let Selena flap around and be hostly with hot drinks. She suspected a lot of tea would be consumed in the coming weeks. ‘So what’re you going to do now?’ 

‘Hell if I know. My plans don’t go further than: have some tea. Sit with Rose and try to get her to cut self-loathing out of her diet.’ 

‘I didn’t come here to bellyache, I came to check up on _you_.’ Rose accepted the tea when Selena joined her on the comfy chairs, which was about the time she realised she had no idea what to say. ‘I’m so sorry this happened. And it sucks people are giving _you_ hell over this. It’s not like you could have seen it coming; she hid this from the _world_.’ 

Selena stared into her cup. ‘I don’t know. The Enforcers believed I didn’t know. But some of them seemed _angry_ about that. Like I _should_ have known. I guess I deserve that.’ 

Rose sipped her tea. ‘You remember you accused me of self-loathing for feeling something similar not two minutes ago?’ 

‘Yeah, but -’ Selena looked up. ‘This is different.’ 

‘I know, I _actually_ did what I’m being blamed for. Your mother lied to you. Manipulated and used you. Even if she had all of these ideals and, trust me, I can see how she started down this road. We _cheered her on_ for the changes she was making. There’s no way you could have suspected she was doing so much good on the back of so much ill. She’s your Mum. You trusted her.’ 

‘I did.’ Selena’s brow was furrowed and for a horrible moment, Rose thought she was going to burst into tears. But she swallowed hard, her methods for steeling herself familiar by now, and Rose wondered if she’d done all the crying she could. 

‘And you’re not alone. I’m glad you’ve got Matt.’ 

Selena gave her a sidelong look. ‘Are you living vicariously through us again?’ 

‘I don’t need to. But there’s no two people in the world I want to see happier than you both. Apart or together. I’m glad it’s together.’ Rose let out a slow breath. ‘And while I want to support you, and while you just need to whistle and I’ll come running, I don’t want to make things awkward what with Matt and me and all -’ 

‘Rose.’ Selena scooted over to join her on the sofa, and reached for her hand. ‘Matt’s not an idiot. He knows that his problem with you isn’t to do with me, and he doesn’t expect me to take sides. I respect his problems, and he respects our friendship. There don’t need to be scenes. It’s not like we were going to start double-dating with you and Scorpius _anyway_ , or anything like that. And at the end of the day…’ She squeezed her hand. ‘You were getting me through crises long before he was.’ 

Rose smiled, though struggled at letting the expression reach her eyes. ‘I can’t do more than sometimes sit by and let you vent at me. And then sometimes take you out for tea and cakes.’ 

‘Yes, but you listen to me bitch so much better than Matt does. His eyes sort of glaze over and he’s not sure when he should join in…’ Selena’s voice trailed off, wryness fading as her gaze dropped. ‘I just wish I knew why I saved her.’ 

Rose sighed, and slung an arm around her friend. ‘Because no matter what she’s done, she’s your Mum.’ 

Selena slumped. ‘And this isn’t like Scorpius and his father; Mum doesn’t have awkward arsehole feelings about me. She’s been a _good_ parent. Like, if you make allowances for imperfect human beings.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘Imperfect human beings who are right now being slated in the press as being the new Grindelwald.’ 

‘The world’s going to reach its conclusions. And it’ll probably forget all the good your mother did and say it was overshadowed by the evil, which is all of the wrestling we’ve done with our own choices, with Eva, with Scorpius. Forget them. The world makes enough of our choices for us; don’t listen to it when you don’t have to. At the end of the day, like you told me a few weeks ago, it doesn’t come down to cosmic justice, some universal balance. It comes down to us, and what we can live with. You’re allowed to feel whatever you bloody well please about your mum, and nobody can tell you differently.’ 

‘You’re right, nobody _can_ tell me that what I feel is wrong,’ sighed Selena. ‘Because I don’t _know_ what I feel.’ They stayed in silence for a while, Selena small but less tense, and when she spoke again it was with a fresh, deflecting wryness. ‘Keep an eye on _your_ mum. Power-gain is dangerous.’ 

Rose scoffed. ‘She’s getting rid of the Minister’s job as soon as she can. But don’t worry. I’ve got my eye on her.’ 

‘Parents.’ Selena rolled her eyes. ‘They were supposed to disappoint us when we grew up and found out they were only human. Not turn out to be global evil masterminds.’ She sipped her tea. ‘I mean, how am I supposed to rebel against _that_?’


	56. As If Time Were Nothing

‘You’re still here,’ Albus said before he could stop himself. It wasn’t an unreasonable reaction to entering his parents house and finding his brother still slouched on the sofa, reading the paper, but it still came out more undiplomatic than he intended. 

‘Dad works long hours, I spend more time at home with Mum,’ said James, lowering the paper. ‘That’s how things work these days. Also, team’s off for Christmas. No games until the New Year.’ 

‘So you can eat whatever you like.’ Albus hadn’t missed the implication of _these days_ , and tried to not bristle. It was a long road to peace, even if he’d been home-bound since Niemandhorn. With Rose flitting between London, Ottawa and Baffin Island, and Scorpius still in jail until that morning, he’d had little reason to go elsewhere. And James was right; Ginny appreciated the company while Harry was up to his eyeballs in the latest global disaster. 

At least this global disaster had an end date. He hoped. 

‘For a bit. Mum’s out, by the way. Lunch with Luna. I think she’s making the most of freedom before Lily’s back on Friday.’ 

‘Hell.’ Albus blew out his cheeks as he hung up his coat. ‘End of term came suddenly. I lost track of time.’ 

‘You’ve had a lot on your plate.’ James tossed the paper down next to him. ‘You okay?’ 

‘Better now Scorpius is out. Punishing him would have been stupid, a complete scapegoating. It’s just as well his father’s been a decent man for once in his life and pulled through for him. Least he could bloody do, considering half of this is _his_ fault.’ 

James raised his eyebrows. ‘Cranky Albus. This is a new one. Anyway, there’s post for you.’ He reached for the coffee table and tossed a thick letter over. 

Albus caught it, and squinted at the handwriting. ‘This is from Gregory Goyle.’ 

‘And I don’t know who that is.’ 

Albus sighed and opened the envelope, only to find a short note and another, smaller envelope inside. He turned the note over, muttering as he read. ‘ _Potter, Suppose I_ _’ll see you soon with it all ending. Put in a good word for me at the hearing for helping you find Draco, I hear he’s going to be really useful. Anyway, I got this yesterday with a note to get this to you, I don’t know why it couldn’t be sent direct so remember I did you this favour, too. Sincerely, Greg Goyle._ ’ 

Then he turned over the envelope and saw just _Albus_ written, and once again he recognised the handwriting. 

His feet were catapulting him to the back door before he knew what was happening, vision blurry, air rushing in his ears so badly he didn’t hear James’ confused calling, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _think_ until he was back in the cold, crisp air of the frozen garden. His fingers fumbled so badly as he opened the envelope he almost dropped it, but then the letter was in his hand and he had to blink hard before he could read the words, _her_ words. 

_Al,_   
  
_I don_ _’t know how to do this, so I’ll start with the simple things. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to hear from me like this, I’m sorry I can’t explain face to face. I’m sorry there’s anything to explain. And I’m sorry for more complicated things, too; I’m sorry I wasn’t someone else, someone simpler, someone you deserved. You’d shake your head at that, but the truth is that even when I tried my hardest, I brought you as much awkward pain as anything else, and you should have had better. But I’m getting ahead of myself._   
  
_Yes, I used Goyle to get this letter to you so you wouldn_ _’t trace it. He’ll be in custody in Delhi by now, and by the time you talk to him and maybe, if you’re very lucky, find out where I sent this from, I’ll still be gone. I will remain gone._   
  
_I_ _’d be lying if I said I wasn’t running to avoid punishment. I don’t know if Scorpius or Selena told you what Lillian said on the North Tower, but she was right. My pardon hearing wasn’t about forgiveness, it was about politics. That was true when it was guaranteed I’d get off before the Niemandhorn attack, and it was true when the truth about Lillian destroyed my every chance. A group of old witches and wizards listening to what I’ve done and deciding if I get punished based off the state of the world isn’t justice. If I am to be condemned, I’ll be condemned for myself and my own deeds. If I am to be forgiven, I’ll be forgiven because I deserve it._   
  
_But I don_ _’t think the world works like that. I don’t think forgiveness comes all at once, I don’t think you do enough things and then the scales tip and you’re redeemed. Maybe I saved a lot of people in Cape Town, maybe I even helped a lot of people working for Baz. I definitely hurt and killed innocent people before that. Just as being pardoned by politics won’t wipe the slate clean, being locked up for politics won’t be any more fair._   
  
_Perhaps fairness doesn_ _’t exist. Perhaps forgiveness doesn’t exist, and perhaps redemption doesn’t exist. But I think I need that uncertainty. I think I have to chase them, work for them, and maybe that takes forever. But it must be done, and that’s why I left. I wasn’t only running away from being locked up. I was running away from you._   
  
_When I_ _’m with you, I feel like I’m already forgiven. When I’m with you, I don’t want to chase anything. The world stops. I’m home. I can’t have that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I know that’s not fair to you, to leave you and to give you that uncertainty, but staying isn’t fair, either. Making you stand by as I get locked up. Or even trying for a real, normal life with you, because we can’t have that, either. Let us be honest: I was not going to sit with your family over a Christmas turkey dinner (apparently that’s what you do) with a big decorated tree and a lot of presents. You can protest all you like, but I know imagining it sticks in your throat. That’s your world. I’m not of that world._   
  
_Maybe we could have made it. Scratched out some balance between your world and mine, and met in the middle and built something for us both. I don_ _’t know. But I know I’m not ready to find out, and I doubt you are, either. You have your promises to keep, and I would take you away from those._   
  
_My whole life, you have been the only thing that_ _’s real. I think that’s part of the problem, but it was also the answer. I didn’t change for you, I didn’t change so maybe I’d deserve you or maybe you’d love me. But I did change_ because _of you. You saw the person I could be, and because I believed in you, I believed in that person. You showed me I could be better, and the world forever despises disappointing you, Al. I feel like all I_ _’ve given you is a road of strife, punctuated and ended in heartbreak and disappointment, but you have given me everything._   
  
_I should end it there, because I owe you an explanation and I_ _’ve given you one, and anything else is cruel, salt in the wound for us both. But I’m going to be selfish, and I’m going to write more._   
  
_I wish we could have that life. I wish I could sit at your family dinner table and I wish I had actual things to talk with them about. I wish I could understand what Hogwarts was to you, I wish we could have drinks and dinners like normal people, I wish we could have some hideaway of our own that wasn_ _’t my wretched safe house. I wish I could give up this chase and return to you and just try, and even if we failed, be with you and have you and be yours. These wishes are what will keep me going. Those, and the memories of everything we_ did _have, every time you made me feel like a person, real and whole and caring. They will be my road map, my comfort on cold dark nights, my reason to keep going._   
  
_It_ _’s selfish of me to say that, because I also want you to have a proper life, and I know that’s harder if you wait and you hope for an end to my journey which might never come back to you. But even more, I know you’ll do as you choose regardless of what I say. I know I can’t make you give up on me, because you couldn’t make me give up on you. Make no mistake, the road ahead is long and it is hard and it may be the death of me. I wish I could promise I’ll come back to you. I can’t._   
  
_I_ _’ll end this now, and send it before I lose my nerve and burn the whole thing._   
  
_My whole life, you have been the only thing that_ _’s real._   
  
_With all my love,_   
  
_Eva_   
  
Albus didn’t know how long he was out there. His grasp of time had been thrown in the first place by his trip to New York, and so now he just sat on the patio step with the letter and waited for the cold wind that numbed his hands sink in to numb his blood and heart. The sun was dimming by the time the back door swung open and James’ voice came, gruff and awkward, ‘Hey.’ 

A silence, then James sank onto the step next to him and, stiff at first, threw an arm over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to be alright.’ Then his grip tightened, and an urgent warmth crept into his brother’s voice, and despite everything Al found himself leaning against James as all their cold defences shuddered into dust. ‘ _We_ _’re_ going to be alright.’

* * 

‘I’m sorry for asking you to come all the way out here. Getting into Niemandhorn right now is a security nightmare, or I’d have come to you…’ 

Adeline Bachelet waved an imperious hand and, despite her advanced years, could still do so with enough of a commanding presence to make Rose shut up. ‘I am not tied to Niemandhorn. And the archives are shut down while these security arrangements continue. I have friends in Britain; I did not come here only for you.’ 

Rose hadn’t been sure where to have this meeting. Inviting Bachelet to her home, her parents’ home, would have made this too personal. But she was aware of the delicacy of the situation, and so a public space hadn’t been an option. In an abuse of the last bit of authority she possessed in her project to secure Ultima Thule, she’d commandeered an office in the Ministry, and didn’t feel all that guilty about it. This _was_ , after all, the last piece of business in the discovery. 

‘Though I should be thanking you,’ said the steel-haired Bachelet, sat straight-backed in her chair, peering at her over half-moon spectacles and appearing altogether more like a reproachful schoolteacher than a grateful supplicant. ‘It would appear that you, Miss Weasley, saved Niemandhorn.’ 

‘You’re welcome.’ Rose had found gratitude much easier to deal with when she’d started saying that and moving on. Indulging it felt like a lie. Dismissing it never worked. ‘But I -’ 

‘I am a little bitter, however, that you denied me an encounter with Raskoph.’ 

Rose wondered if she’d made a tactical error in not going to the archives and press-ganging Bachelet into her rescue operation. Then she saw the faint shake in the elderly witch’s hands, the way she had to squint without the help of her glasses, and suppressed a groan. Joachim Raskoph had still been a formidable fighter after a hundred years. Adeline Bachelet had tended a records room of the ghosts of her past, not kept in practice with a wand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she still said. 

She was rewarded with a wry glint of the eye, and realised the other woman wasn’t serious. ‘I should have liked to have seen the look on his face when he was beaten. I will settle for him being beaten. It is a good compromise.’ 

Rose dropped her gaze and reached for her bag. ‘That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about, Madam Bachelet.’ She saw the older woman’s expression flicker, wondered if she’d used the right honorific, but without a correction forthcoming, just continued. ‘You gave us Cassian’s journal and… and I think you should know that we managed to decipher it.’ 

Bachelet rammed her glasses on. ‘You -’ 

‘The writing you could see was gibberish. He also wrote in an invisible ink, and we found a way to reveal it.’ She put the worn, leather-bound notebook on the desk between them, along with the small drawstring pouch. ‘It’s in there. I tucked some notes in the journal for how you make more. There’s, um, also his watch in the pouch -’ 

‘His _watch_ -’ 

‘He did find Ultima Thule, Madam Bachelet.’ Rose tried to stop her voice from croaking as she saw the older woman’s face slump, and she knew she was looking down a road not taken. ‘He found it, and he died stopping Raskoph from unlocking it. If he hadn’t, Raskoph might have become a second Grindelwald eighty years ago, could have done unspeakable evil. But he didn’t. Because of Cassian.’ 

Bachelet stared at the journal and pouch. ‘How do you know all of this?’ 

‘We found Ultima Thule. We found his body.’ She hesitated, knowing _she_ would want the truth, knowing she had wanted an awful lot that was bad for her. But it looked like Adeline Bachelet was too far down that road to turn back now. ‘We found his ghost,’ Rose said at last. ‘He couldn’t rest so long as Raskoph was undefeated. We spoke with him. He _helped_ us.’ 

Bachelet half-rose in a jerk, reaching for the journal before stopping herself. ‘Is he - did he - does he still -’ 

‘He’s passed on. With Raskoph’s defeat.’ _Perhaps before_ , Rose thought, but she didn’t want to speculate. She’d returned to the frozen wastes of Baffin Island, seen the shattered mountainside of Ultima Thule, and over the long days there, had seen no sign of the spectre of Cassian Malfoy. And he was a Malfoy. If he’d been there, if he had anything to say, he’d have said it. She swallowed, hard. ‘He’s at peace.’ _I hope._   
  
Bachelet’s fingers curled before she could grasp the journal, and she spent a long time just staring at the measly array of personal effects which were all that could be returned to her of a life she’d lost. At length, she drew a shuddering breath and said, in a voice, almost too small to be heard, ‘Thank you.’ 

Rose looked down, and willed herself to end the meeting there. She instead found herself speaking more. ‘I think you should know that I couldn’t have beaten Raskoph without him.’ His information on how a mere mortal couldn’t bloody _fly_ hadn’t been a revelation, but that wasn’t the point. ‘He might have died, but he - he taught me a lot. Showed me a lot. I wouldn’t have had the guts to try what I did, if it weren’t for him.’ 

‘To try what you did.’ Bachelet glanced up. ‘You mean, a foolish sacrifice?’ 

He’d regretted it, Rose remembered. Or, that was what he’d said after eighty years in the cold, with nothing but the memory of the woman he’d loved and left behind for company. And she’d clung to that knowledge when deciding to kill de Sablé, clung to the idea that a heroic sacrifice for a greater cause could also be a horrendous _mistake_. And then she’d been in the same position as Cassian Malfoy, and had done the same as him. 

She wondered if he’d have still died if he’d let the people he loved go with him into danger. And then her mind sheared away from that thought, because she suspected it was one which would keep haunting Adeline Bachelet for the rest of her life, and Rose had spent enough time down that path for her own lifetime. She was lucky. It was, now, the road not taken. 

‘I mean,’ Rose said at length, gently, ‘Not letting evil win. In the world, or in ourselves.’

* * 

The funeral was a subdued affair, because not a lot of people wanted to attend the burial of a traitor who had masterminded the return of a supernatural plague to the world. There were no government officials, none of the people who had attended her awarding of an Order of Merlin out of formality. Only by stubborn deflection of Hermione Granger had the medal not been stripped posthumously. It was only the closest of friends and the closest of family who gathered in the Glastonbury cemetery on a frozen December’s day, and watched as the gravestone erected in the memory of the living Scorpius Malfoy was taken down so the ground could become the final resting place of the dead Nathalie Lockett. 

‘I think she’d like that,’ was the only thing her bereaved husband said to Scorpius, because Scorpius left as soon as possible afterwards so he didn’t have to see a Quidditch legend cry. 

He lingered at the gravestone next to Lockett’s, which was the second reason he’d urged them to use his old plot. Methuselah Jones’ headstone looked even older and shabbier next to the brand new, gleaming headstone for Lockett, even if it had been there a mere three years, three years that felt like only one to Scorpius. 

Selena was already there. She hadn’t really joined the gathering for Lockett, but had stood at the edges, trapped between two memorials for the lost, and she barely looked up when Scorpius slunk to her side. ‘There should be more people here,’ she murmured. 

‘There should.’ He frowned at Methuselah’s gravestone. ‘Do you ever wonder what he’d think of all this?’ 

‘I try to.’ Her brow knotted. ‘But this is all so much more _mad_ than it was back then. He’d be so different if he’d lived, wouldn’t he? And so would we, but I mean, if he’d gone through everything with us… it was all so long ago. He was with us in a different lifetime.’ 

‘Literally, in my case.’ Scorpius looked over. ‘How’re you holding up?’ 

‘With my Mum as the new Grindelwald? I’m just dandy. And a social pariah. The only reason I can show my face out the house _here_ is because this is a funeral for _another_ pariah. So I guess Lockett and I have something in common at last after all, and now I have a similar, overwhelming urge to drink a distillery dry -’ She stopped herself, nose wrinkling. ‘Sorry. I know she was important to you.’ 

‘Doesn’t mean I’m not angry at her, though.’ 

‘Then I guess you and _I_ have more things in common.’ 

Scorpius slunk closer and wrapped an arm around her. ‘I know it’s different for everyone. And I know you don’t have a long and distinguished history of hating your mother all along. But I get it. I get hating someone and loving them. I get how it makes you feel like a terrible person for loving a terrible person, and I get how it makes you feel guilty for hating someone so important to you.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Selena blinked hard. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any answers for how to deal with it?’ 

He pursed his lips, felt the cold winter wind whip across them, bringing with it the odd snatch of words from the gathering around Lockett’s grave. ‘You know,’ said Scorpius, ‘I really don’t. It just sucks. But you’re not alone.’ 

‘I know.’ She looked up at him. ‘Not everyone we love abandons us.’ 

‘Some of them do crazy shit in our name.’ 

‘Like dangerous rituals with a body-count?’ 

Scorpius winced as he heard the double-meaning, and knew Selena had been probing him. He also knew, from the glint in her eye, that she’d measured his reaction perfectly, and so it was with a hint of pettiness that he said, not unkindly, ‘Or get their hands cut off trying to save us.’ 

‘Hand,’ Selena sniffed. ‘It was only the one time.’ 

It was odd to be able to laugh at this. ‘Oh, Selena Rourke plays with live Bludgers -’ 

‘Please, Scorpius.’ She tossed her hair. ‘I can get away with this. I’m the only person as terrible as you.’ 

He wanted to protest that, but knew it would come across as only self-pitying. So he just leaned over to kiss the top of her head, and let her go. ‘Take care of yourself. You know where to find me.’ 

‘I don’t; I lose track of if it’s Al or Rose that’s your keeper these days…’ 

Keeping his laughter down, he left her to her thoughts and her farewells, left her to this private moment with Methuselah Jones he could only be glad he _didn_ _’t_ understand. Rose joined him, catching his hand as they slunk away from the final echoes of the funeral, but they didn’t say a word as they headed for the cemetery gates. Only when they got there and saw a figure waiting, tall and aristocratic and almost humming with apprehension, did Rose lean up, kiss him on the cheek, and say, ‘I’ll see you later.’ 

He didn’t begrudge her leaving, with a _crack_ of Disapparition and what felt like a gust of chillier wind at her vanishing. She knew what she was doing, and she knew it was best he have this conversation with his mother in private. 

‘So you’ve de-disappeared,’ he said as he crunched over, pulling his winter coat closer around himself like a shield. ‘Astonishing; you’re nowhere to be found in times of trouble, but once the coast is clear, back you come.’ 

Astoria’s face creased with dismay. ‘Darling -’ 

Scorpius tightened his jaw and he glanced at the cemetery gates. ‘Not here.’ Others would follow soon enough, so he gestured down the path winding towards trees stripped bare by winter, even autumn leaves turned to dust to leave only hard ground, cold bark. ‘Couldn’t come in to the funeral? Thought it might look bad if someone caught you paying your respects to her?’ 

‘I _thought_ I would give you the space to grieve of your own accord,’ said his mother, falling into step with him. ‘But I came to see you as soon as I could.’ 

‘Like hell,’ he scoffed. ‘Correct me if I’ve got any of this wrong. Erik Geiger identified you as a prisoner he wanted to take alive in South Africa. This rattled you, made you think maybe the Council had plans for you, or intended to use you against me or Dad. So instead of, I don’t know, coming to me for my help, or even to give _me_ support, you decided to disappear. To save your own hide. And you didn’t come back when Lethe was destroyed because Dad was out there somewhere, and you’ve only come back _now_ because he’s in a prison cell and the world has it on good authority you’ve not done anything wrong.’ His lip curled. ‘Legally.’ 

Astoria wrung her hands together. ‘I thought he was a part of the Council and was _with_ them, not on the run from them. When Geiger identified me I - I panicked. It sounded so like your father to use his goons to grab me, bring me back under his control…’ 

Scorpius’ shoulders slumped, and he glared at a nearby tree so he didn’t have to see his mother’s blossoming panic at old memories. ‘Yeah, he’s a real piece of work. I do know that much.’ 

Silence reigned for long moments, broken only by the rustling of bare branches and the whipping of winter wind as they wound their way further and further from the cemetery. ‘Did you speak with him?’ Astoria asked at last. 

‘I did. He’s the reason I’m _free_ ,’ Scorpius sneered. ‘He can’t bring himself to be a decent father, but he can throw himself on his sword for me. Like the big gestures make up for a thousand smaller cruelties.’ 

‘He knows what he’s _supposed_ to do as a father.’ Astoria’s voice was low. ‘He knows he’s supposed to put family first. But he gets muddled up, views family as a _concept_ , and puts that concept before the actual people.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘It’s why I had to get away from him -’ 

‘I _know_.’ Scorpius stopped, closing his eyes. ‘And - and I’m not angry at you, not really. I don’t think I resent you for leaving. Leaving home, or hiding this last month. I know we’re _both_ what he made us. Though he’s also what his father made him, and his, and onward. So eventually I have to stop being understanding and blame _someone_ , and I change my mind each day on who that’s going to be.’ 

‘I know I was weak, but if I thought of you, I was just going to be his prisoner forever -’ 

‘Don’t.’ He felt her hand on his arm and flinched away. ‘I don’t have to blame you to still be hurt by you.’ 

When he opened his eyes, it was to see his mother’s eyes - blue, that gentler blue that softened his own, that he knew gave him the twinkle when he laughed - swimming with tears. ‘If you want me to leave you alone, Scorpius, I understand that need.’ 

‘You’ve left me alone for five years,’ he groaned. ‘Or, well, um, longer, if you take into account me being _dead._ I don’t… I don’t know what I want.’ He kicked at the path, sent pebbles scattering worse than his fractured feelings. ‘I mean, I do, but that takes a Time Turner.’ 

‘Scorpius, I think we both tried our best for you -’ 

‘No! No, you didn’t!’ He rounded on her now, but he was childishly indignant instead of righteously angry, and all but stomped his foot. ‘You two _both_ did what was best for _yourselves_. Neither of you put me first, _ever_. The first person who ever did was Albus, and the first _adult_ who ever did that for me was -’ He faltered, and stabbed a furious finger back the way they came. ‘I just had to bury her!’ 

‘Nat Lockett -’ 

‘Believed in me! Talked through my worries! Put down my fears! And now _she_ _’s_ the one the world sees as a bloody monster, because she kept on putting me first until it condemned her!’ His chest heaved, even though he’d not said much, not walked much, and he could feel his breath tightening. ‘I don’t like what she did. I wish she _hadn_ _’t_ ; I _hate_ that she bought my life at the cost of hundreds. But you know what? I wish that once, just _once_ , you or Dad had done what she did and put me above all selfishness or sense or even morality. Just _once_!’ 

His words echoed through the bare trees and bounced back in his face, and Scorpius had to turn away and swipe at his eyes because it felt too much like vulnerability to cry over Nat Lockett in front of his mother. 

Astoria didn’t reach for him again, and it took a long time before she said, her voice very small, ‘I’m sorry. I wish everything had been different. I wish I’d been better. I wish I’d been stronger.’ 

_And what_ , Scorpius thought with a wry twist of the lips, _can anyone say except that?_ His throat was hoarse when he said, ‘Dad asked me to give him a chance. You know, visit him while he’s in prison, maybe try to rebuild a connection.’ 

‘Are you going to?’ 

‘I’m free because of him, I feel I _should_.’ 

‘Draco Malfoy,’ said Astoria in a low, taut voice, ‘is exceptionally good at turning emotions into transactions. We both know that’s not how they work.’ 

‘Maybe. But I guess the least I can do is visit him.’ Scorpius swallowed hard, not against grief, but against apprehension that rose from his gut with bile. It was an old apprehension, a childish one, and though he was a grown man who’d faced death and disaster over and over, this was, perhaps, more powerful. ‘And maybe the least you and I can do is try. Not with him. With - with us.’ 

When his mother pulled him into a hug and burst into tears, it was enough to shatter that apprehension, so ancient it had sunk into his bones and started to feel like truth. Because he’d whispered it to himself over and over since she’d left, and since she’d failed to be there in his many hours of need, and it was so easy to believe that his mother simply hadn’t given a damn about him after all. 

But they were both what Draco had made them. 


	57. When All Our Wars Are Done

Scorpius’ reunion with Astoria lasted maybe another hour of awkward conversations and tentative plans for the future. By the time he got to the hotel suite, dusk was gathering and he wanted nothing more than to lock himself away from the world and get some rest. But Rose was curled up on a comfortable armchair with a book, and while the sight of her smoothed some woes, it rattled others. He’d only been out of jail a day, and there’d been no time for anything more than reunions and catch ups and funerals. 

Her smile was soft, but apprehensive. ‘How’d it go?’ 

‘We’re going to talk more. Spend time together. My father can’t try to control her life from prison. She’s got less reason to drop me like a hot potato.’ He took longer than he needed to in hanging up his coat, to give himself time to get his expression under control. ‘At least there wasn’t any press at the funeral. I thought they might try to turn this all ghoulish.’ 

‘They have more exciting things to write about than us these days.’ 

He turned, smile not entirely forced. ‘They have more exciting things to write about than _me_. They should be writing about you. “ _Rose Weasley, Vanquisher of the Council of Thorns._ ”’ 

Her nose wrinkled. ‘I didn’t really _vanquish_ the Council. I pushed their leader out a window.’ 

‘Fine. _“Rose Weasley, Defenestrator of Dark Lords.”_ ’ 

‘I wouldn’t call Raskoph a _Dark Lord_ …’ 

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You keep this up and I’ll start introducing you as: “ _This is Rose, she tackled this old guy out a window once, it was kind of weird._ _”_ ’ He watched her laugh, but saw the apprehension linger in her eyes, felt it linger in his own gut, and before he knew it he’d blurted, ‘We have to talk.’ 

Rose looked away with a frown, closing her book. ‘Huh. That’s new.’ 

He bit his lip as he padded over. ‘I’m better at communicating -’ 

‘I wasn’t being snide. I just had a very domestic-feeling lurch of the stomach. I’m used to my stomach lurches being death-defying.’ She grimaced and tucked her springy lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Sorry. I’m doing a you.’ 

‘Babbling while nervous?’ Scorpius looked at the chairs, and decided to take the comfortable armchair across from her, even if it made her shoulders tense. ‘It feels like we shouldn’t have much to be nervous about. I’m _not_ dead. There’s _not_ a war. The bad guys are dead or locked up, our loved ones are mostly okay, and while there are some awkward sort of fuzzy grey spaces, it all feels like… like things we can live with.’ 

Her gaze flickered. ‘Sure.’ 

‘Except there are things Ithought I could live with, only I had a lot of time to think in jail. And we’ve seen what lies with the best of intentions do to us, do to the world, and -’ He cut himself off, and looked her in the eye, hoping he had more of his mother’s warm blue than his father’s cold grey in his gaze. ‘I know you killed de Sablé.’ 

Now she flinched. ‘Who -’ 

‘I’m not an idiot; I only have theories on what _exactly_ you did, but I was there, Rose. I saw you look at him at the last second of the ritual. I saw the look on your face when it turned out he was dead instead of me. I pretended I didn’t, I decided it was better to be oblivious, but then two things happened. The first is that I discovered _another_ incident of someone doing something _horrible_ , and all for me.’ 

Rose’s lips thinned. ‘I’m not going to defend what I did - except it’s _not_ the same as handing over a super-weapon to the Council of Thorns for your sake. I’ve done the _opposite_ of that; I risked your death, both of our deaths, to stop them in Ultima Thule -’ 

He lifted a hand. ‘I’m not saying it’s the same. But they’re both things I would _never_ have agreed to. They’re both things done for me. They’re both things done by people who loved me.’ He had to drop his gaze at that, vision clouded by the memory of a casket they’d lowered into the ground just earlier that day. ‘And I don’t know how I can work through my feelings about Nat and pretend I don’t have any feelings about de Sablé.’ 

He saw her swallow hard, watched her wring her hands together. ‘I - I had all of these arguments with Matt. About how it was monstrous to accept sacrificing you, so why was it _that_ much worse to choose who we sacrificed? He made good points at me. About how playing favourites over who lives and who dies is monstrous, too. And it is, I don’t think what I did was right. But I don’t think sacrificing you would have been right, either.’ She looked up, and when their eyes met he could see a shot of steel running through her. ‘I don’t have a huge, sweeping justification, Scorp. I made the choice I could live with. And I accepted that maybe you wouldn’t be able to live with it.’ 

‘You mean, live with you.’ He bowed his head. ‘Please, Rose, like we’ll reach the final hurdle, after all we’ve been through, and I’ll say, “Sorry, love, I think we should see other people.” We just got our happy ending; I’m not going to defenestrate it like you defenestrate dark lords.’ 

Her laugh was small, an involuntary burst past her lips that came with a hint of a sob, and she lifted her hands to stifle it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and at first sounded like she was apologising for laughing. But she choked on the words, and then she was apologising again even as she swallowed more sobs and fought to steel herself, straighten her shoulders. ‘…I’m sorry - you know, I refuse to go to pieces so you have to comfort me while you’ve every right to be angry -’ 

‘Hey - _hey_.’ He shot over, knelt by the chair and reached for her hands, his clasp tight. ‘This whole, “let’s not ignore it” thing goes two ways, you know. It’s not good for me to sit on it. Maybe wind up resenting you for it. But you, going through all of this, and not being able to _tell_ me?’ His throat constricted. ‘I’m not okay with doing that to you, either.’ 

‘I guess.’ Rose’s hold on his hands was like a vice. ‘I didn’t want you to hate me. But I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me, either. Or _had_ to forgive me.’ 

Scorpius let out a slow, shuddering breath. ‘I might have been pretending I didn’t know. And maybe it’s a little bit why I stayed away before the wedding, so I could think things over.’ He let go of her hand to lift his fingers to her cheek, brush away a tumbling tear. ‘But I came back, didn’t I?’ 

‘I’m really,’ she rasped, ‘hating those words.’ 

‘Yeah, me too.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Though I should have been the one to invoke them in Niemandhorn, shouldn’t I?’ 

Again she tensed. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘I know Albus catching you wasn’t the plan.’ He bit his lip again. ‘That was the second thing that made me realise I couldn’t be oblivious. Because there I was, pretending you hadn’t killed for me, and then all of a sudden you’re trying to sacrifice yourself to save the day.’ 

Her gaze locked on to his. ‘I don’t have a death wish.’ 

‘I’ve done some crazy shit in my time, Rose, but dying was never _actually_ the plan.’ 

‘It wasn’t a _good_ plan. I didn’t do it because I thought I deserved to die -’ She was flapping with her free hand by now, speaking faster. ‘But I couldn’t think of a way of killing him which wouldn’t get _me_ killed, and blasting at him from the door he’d probably Shield against so I wouldn’t achieve anything, and after talking to Cassian I thought I could lure him into lowering his guard but then I had to be _damned_ sure I did it right.’ She stopped as if all her momentum had suddenly shattered, and looked down. ‘That was the most sure way I could think of.’ 

‘And had nothing to do with you carting a whole load of guilt around?’ She began to gesture with her hand again, so he caught it, brought her knuckles to his lips and felt her soften. ‘Hey. I’m listening, not judging.’ 

She gave a soft sigh that took some tension with it. ‘I used all of my wits and skills to pervert a ritual that should have been about saving the world, and for rather selfish reasons. I don’t know if I was trying to even the score by throwing myself out that window with Raskoph. I _do_ know I had to do _anything_ I could to stop him, to save Niemandhorn. Because if I could use my every bloody talent to save _you_ , if I could find the answers for just one man, even the man I love… what the hell kind of person am I, if I don’t also go that extra mile for a whole _castle_ of innocent people?’ 

He stared at her. ‘Wow.’ 

She frowned. ‘Wow?’ 

‘Your parents have screwed youup almost as badly as mine screwed _me_ up.’ 

She gave another small, involuntary laugh, but this was tinged with less grief. ‘No. No, this isn’t about them. This is about me not being able to live with picking the selfish choice again.’ 

‘Wow,’ he said again, and smiled when she made a face. ‘You do a _lot_ more thinking than me when you’re being stupid and heroic.’ 

Her expression folded, and she tightened her hold to entwine their fingers. ‘I won’t ask for your forgiveness,’ she whispered. ‘I just want to know if… if this is something you can live with.’ 

Scorpius looked up at her, watched every anxious shift of her expression, every flicker of that face he knew so well, and let a smile curl the corner of his lips, tentative and wry though it was. ‘We both have a lot to live with. Things we’ve done. Things we’ve seen. Things we’ve survived. But that’s the important part, isn’t it? We survived. And I know two things for sure. The first is that we find out if we can live with it… by living.’ 

Anxiety knotted her brow. ‘And the second?’ 

He slid onto the chair’s armrest, wrapped an arm around to pull her closer. ‘The second is that I think we keep your new rule idea.’ Scorpius leaned down to kiss the top of her head, feeling her flow against him, clutch at him like he was a lifeline, and he was entirely happy with being the anchor to solid ground, to life and to love for once. ‘ _Where you go, I go_.’

* * 

‘You’ve got five minutes,’ grunted the Enforcer with the surly disposition, and opened the heavy metal door to let Selena into the dank visitor room in Azkaban. 

She’d never been here before. All she knew of the prison came from a reputation still tarnished by the memories of Dementor guards, even a quarter of a century on, and so she’d told herself those were days long gone. It couldn’t be _that_ dreary, _that_ horrific. She was wrong. It was an isolated, jutting rock squatting in the North Sea, the walls towering and impenetrable, the windows narrow and barred. There was little light here, little life here, and most certainly no hope. 

The sight of her mother, shackled to a table and clad in a pale prison robe that looked more like a smock, did not break the gloomy spell. Lillian Rourke had been forever poised, in control, every part of her appearance deliberately chosen, not a single strand of hair out of place. Until now. Now, blonde hair lay dank and limp against her cheeks. A lack of makeup made her look somehow older and younger at once, lacking the disguise of every blemish or encroaching wrinkle, but denied the mask of austere control. 

But Lillian’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, so bright and hopeful that Selena had to press her back to the door closed behind her. ‘Dear -’ 

And Selena said nothing, just coiled like she was poised for fight or flight, and clawed in herself for a feeling, any feeling, let alone words to express it. 

Lillian raised her hand, but the manacles jangled and that broke the moment of hope, slumped her in her chair. ‘I’m glad you came here. They’re transferring me to Nurmengard next week. So that’ll be a long trip to visit.’ She hesitated. ‘If you want to visit.’ 

As a child, Selena had played about in her mother’s shoes and makeup, acted like the fancy lady and dreamed of being half so glamorous as Lillian. 

Without an answer, Lillian drew a slow breath. ‘I know it’s going to be hard. I know they probably won’t let me out of here. I’ll tell the truth, and they’ll see how much of it was really Raskoph; everything they’re saying about me propping up his rise to power, there’s no _proof_ , just Draco Malfoy’s word. And he did more than me, really, he _put_ Lethe in warehouses…’ 

_You just blackmailed him into it, and they only can_ _’t prove you had Raskoph’s rivals killed because Thane’s dead and Scorpius never knew._ As a teenager, she’d learnt from her mother how to lie, how to tell the best lies. It was about picking and choosing the bits of truths you liked, that the world would like, and focusing so hard on them everything else became irrelevant. To lie well, you had to believe it, or how would anyone else? 

‘Dear - whatever happens, I’m going to get through this. _We_ _’re_ going to get through this -’ 

Which was the point Selena hammered on the door until the Enforcer let her out, and she tore away from the cell block and didn’t look back. The only thing worse than her mother’s excuses was her mother’s determination. Because her mother taught her how to be strong as well as a liar, resourceful as well as manipulative. Masks weren’t just tools to control others, they were shields against them. Wanting things wasn’t wrong, because nobody would _give_ you anything. 

And every lesson, the good and the bad, ran through Selena’s mind as she stalked through the halls of Azkaban, against a background of staring eyes and muttered voices from the staff, the guards, even the inmates. They didn’t need to ask who she was, because she walked tall and blonde and poised and was every inch her mother’s daughter. 

The daughter of a monster who’d broken the world to remold it in her own image. 

Somehow she kept it together until she made it through the Floo checkpoint, somehow she remained in control until she was tumbling through green fire and into the living room of Matt’s flat, and there she crumbled. There her legs gave way from under her and she collapsed onto polished wooden floors, a crumpled heap of shattered poise and broken masks. 

She hadn’t wept like this since Methuselah. Methuselah, who’d died securing a cure for Phlegethon her _mother_ made sure they received, who’d died because giving him _all_ the knowledge of the ritual might inconvenience her schemes. 

‘Hey - I thought you were meeting Scorpius -’ Matt didn’t hesitate reaching for her with his prosthetic any more, but this time she reeled away at the feel of smooth metal. He’d only lost his hand because he’d had to rescue her from Raskoph, and Raskoph had only taken her because his fight with her mother was _personal_ \- 

Of course he’d think it was different, so by the time she realised she’d slammed against the wall in a crumpled heap, she looked up to see him frozen before the mantelpiece, expression creased with horrified concern. 

‘Hey, I’m _sorry_ ,’ he croaked. 

‘It’s not you. It’s not you, it’s not - how can you not _hate_ me?’ 

He blinked, then caught up, and sank onto his haunches before her. ‘You’re not her.’ 

‘But I am. I’m not Scorpius, confirming all I hated about a father; I’m her, I’ve always been like her, tried to be like her, and I don’t even _hate_ her; I went there and she was _Mum_ , in prison, and I couldn’t say a single word, not a single -’ 

‘It’s okay.’ Matt raised his hands, quick, comforting. ‘I know it’s hard to see them like that. I hated seeing Dad in jail. And you know that you don’t _have_ to hate her?’ 

‘I should.’ Selena drew her knees up under her chin. ‘They do. And me. All of them, seeing me going to visit my monster of a mother, thinking I sympathise; and even if I _don_ _’t_ , that’s what the name “Rourke” is going to be across Britain, across the _world_ -’ 

‘Who _cares_ what anyone else thinks?’ 

She glared at him. ‘That’s a logic which applies to _school_ , Matt. Who cares if nobody likes your _shoes_. Except I cared, I always cared, and this is different. There’s not going to be a person in the country who won’t know who I am, and - and this is going to be my life, now? Condemnation or pity. Daughter of a monster. Deciding for me how I feel before even _I_ know, and probably judging me for the choice _they_ made, I can’t…’ 

He scooted over, but didn’t reach for her - just extended a hand, patient and waiting. She knew those were tricks he’d learnt for Rose, but somehow it helped for him to offer instead of insist. There were times all she wanted, in pain, was for someone to bundle her up with unconditional comfort. And then there were times it was easier for it to happen on her terms. ‘You’ve got a lot to work through. And I know that can’t make it easier, dealing with the _world_ _’s_ judgement when you’re not sure where your own falls.’ 

She did reach for his hand, but still slumped with her head against the wall, eyes closed. ‘Everyone else has to live with things they actually did. I have to live with this, and I didn’t even _do_ any of it.’ 

‘It’ll die down -’ 

‘It’s in the press, every mention of her includes a mention of me. It’s on the streets, every witch and wizard recognises me, mutters. I was looked down at through _cell bars_ at _Azkaban_ , Matt. It might die down, but nobody is _ever_ going to forget this. It’s like a constant buzzing in my head; I have to deal with Mum _and_ the world at the same time, and it’s too much, too much -’ 

Her words were tumbling together into sobs, and now he reached for her, slid to her side and pulled her into her arms, and once again she could fall to pieces, just for a little while. 

They didn’t speak for some time. Time she spent sobbing, and time he spent mumbling nonsense words into her hair, and then time spent in a silence of shuddering breaths and comforting embraces. When he did talk again, though, his voice was hoarse with apprehension. ‘I’ve had this thought. And I’ve done some work on it, so all you’d need to do would be say “yes,” but if I’ve overstepped my -’ 

‘Matt, skip to the end. This isn’t even nerdy babble.’ 

She felt his lips curl against her forehead. ‘So, you know how you’re still technically an employee of the _Clarion_?’ 

Selena winced. ‘That won’t last -’ 

‘…and Toby wants to start up an international edition for British ex-pats abroad. National news and more global news. It’ll take globe-trotting reporters to put stories together. Not staying in one place much. Hell, maybe even writing under a pseudonym…’ 

She pushed away from him and sat up. ‘Did you just _nepotism_ me an escape ladder?’ 

‘I didn’t get you the job at the _Clarion_ in the first place! And _you_ were the one who almost found out about the Lethe smuggling on your own!’ Matt pointed out, eyebrows raised with indignation. ‘I was talking to Toby and this came up and, _yes_ , I said maybe it’d be good for you. But he agreed, because he thinks you’re good at your job! And you are! But more importantly, you _enjoyed_ your job!’ 

‘So, what? I just leave Britain, go across the world to different places and different people and different _stories_? Where I won’t be recognised on sight and don’t write under the name “Rourke” and…’ Selena’s nose wrinkled. ‘Why am I complaining about this again?’ 

His smile was nervous, but pleased. ‘You get some time away. The story about your mother won’t stop, but give it time and the story won’t need to be about _you_ , too. You can stick your nose in other people’s business for a few months, _years_ , if you want. Do something you enjoy that’s not about you, and that’s _far_ from the crowd.’ 

She winced. ‘Is that running away?’ 

‘Only to the most cynical mind, which I know you _have_ …’ His smile turned teasing. ‘You’re allowed to run away a bit. You didn’t ask for this, or _do_ anything to deserve this. Spend some time being you. Sorting yourself out. What you think, what you feel, what you want. Away from all the crap.’ 

Selena bit her lip, and realised her hair was a mess. Tidying it gave her something to do while the idea spun over and over, and she had to be a state after Azkaban, because it took her a few minutes before her gaze locked on him and she blurted out, ‘What about you?’ 

Now he looked embarrassed. ‘Well. I don’t want to assume anything. _But_ , I thought, if you wanted - I mean, I’ve got enough research material to write ten books on the Chalice, and I could do that _anywhere_ , I just need my notes, a quill, and paper and…’ 

His voice trailed off, and she realised it was because she was gawping at him. She shut her mouth. ‘You’d just follow _me_ around?’ 

Matt gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Maybe it’s about time someone was _your_ cheerleader.’ The corner of his mouth curled up at her bemused look. ‘Okay, let me break it down. First, I wouldn’t mind a bit of quiet myself, and I could honestly spend the rest of my life being the guy who destroyed the Chalice of Emrys and then wrote about it. And maybe you’re wondering if my _ego_ can take it being _your_ life calling the shots and - uh, that’s a fair accusation. But the day got saved at Niemandhorn by a whole load of people in a load of different ways, and do you know what I did? Gave Rose some information and then _hid in an office_. Sure, it was good information. Sure, _she_ used it to save the day, and good for her. And I’m more interested in how the people I care about got out of Niemandhorn in one piece, but… I’ve spent a long time trying to be The Guy, and then a long time _being_ The Guy on some things. At Niemandhorn, I was just backup. Other people were The Guy. And that was _good_. So if I can do it for Rose in a crisis, I can _sure as hell_ do it for _you_ for your _life_.’ 

Selena slid across the polished floor back towards him, and with fumbling fingers reached for his prosthetic hand. The metal fingers curled around hers, warm and responsive as flesh and blood, because they were a part of him now as much as anything else; not an addition, not a compromise, not a flaw to blame her for. ‘Word of advice,’ she said, and tried to fight her smile. ‘When talking about life choices, don’t mention your ex-girlfriend.’ 

His grin widened. ‘Is that a “yes”?’ 

‘What was the question? “ _Can I follow you around the world?_ _”’_   
  
‘Pretty much.’ 

Selena Rourke looked the messy academic up and down, then tilted her nose up, voice lofty, controlled, superior as she sighed, ‘Oh, well. I suppose. If you _must_.’

* * 

It ended many times, for many different people in many different ways. 

It ended when the Chalice of Emrys was destroyed, bringing its cycle of giving life and death to an end, and taking the Lethe plague with it. It ended when Joachim Raskoph died, and his power over the golems died with him, freeing the people of Niemandhorn Castle to fight back. It ended when the world came to realise and believe the International Magical Convocation a sham, built on the bodies of those the Council of Thorns had killed. 

And for many, it didn’t end at all. Matthias Doyle’s stump still ached of a morning. Albus Potter still looked at a crowd and wished for a face he wouldn’t find. Rose Weasley still woke in a scream of sweat and the sense of falling, and Scorpius Malfoy still knew what that felt like enough to comfort her. Selena Rourke still lived through the trial and judgement of her mother and all her sins, and there was never an end to her figuring out how she felt about it. 

But there were, at least, beginnings, and one of those beginnings came very soon, starting in a tea shop in Diagon Alley only a handful of days before Christmas. 

‘Why’re you checking your watch?’ Rose’s gaze on Scorpius over the table was suspicious. 

‘I’m not,’ he said, and put his pocketwatch away with impish innocence. Albus, across from them, raised his head from his lemon slice, looked between them, and then immediately returned to his cakes. ‘I’m checking my reflection. The lid’s very shiny.’ 

She arched an eyebrow at him, but accepted the fib, and he tried to not grin as she looked back at Albus. ‘How’s your dad?’ 

‘Less busy.’ He poured himself more tea. ‘More and more work’s getting outsourced to the US and Germany. Seems like Lillian kept most of her allies _not_ in Britain - she knew better than to _try_ to go against Dad and your mum - so uprooting the messy bits isn’t so hard. She did us a bit of a favour removing the Halvard administration. So the rest is… global.’ 

‘Your mum’s going to wriggle out of the Minister post ASAP, then?’ said Scorpius. 

‘She said there’s going to be an election in a couple of months, and she’s not going to run, but she knows a few people who will. Unusual people. New faces. Honestly…’ Rose sighed and stirred her tea. ‘You listen to her talk about it, and you listen to her talk about Lillian Rourke, and you realise she’s not _that_ angry at her. I think Mum knows better than to dangle too _much_ power in front of herself.’ 

Scorpius looked at Albus. ‘Your dad’s not still trying to get you a job in the DMLE, is he?’ 

‘That was just a short-term thing. More contractor stuff, all of it very dull, and he understood when I said no.’ Albus gave a small, not insincere smile. ‘It’s been good to be at home for a bit with Mum. Help Gran make Christmas plans. She’s been teaching me knitting.’ 

‘Al.’ Scorpius sipped his tea. ‘Has anyone told you that you’re _adorable_?’ 

‘I’m -’ 

‘Like a big, fluffy teddy bear.’ 

‘Yeah.’ But Albus’ brow knotted, and he looked to the window, Diagon Alley stretching beyond the teashop. Christmas was a week away, and still magical shoppers would not be daunted by a fresh outbreak of catastrophe. The world hadn’t ended, evil had been vanquished, and the festive season was upon them all. That seemed like a fine time for celebration, though Scorpius thought they wouldn’t know it from Albus’ frown. ‘That’s what I go for,’ he muttered. 

Rose grimaced. ‘Have you heard…’ 

‘What would I hear? More letters of heartbreak? A tally of people saved so I know how many there are until the scales are tipped -’ Albus put down his teaspoon with more rattle than it really deserved. ‘Sorry. I just have to learn to live with this. She’s gone, and I understand why, but she’s not coming back.’ 

_She might_ , Scorpius wanted to say, but he knew that wouldn’t help. So he said, instead, ‘What’re you going to do?’ 

Albus drew a deep breath. ‘Keep going. Spend this Christmas with the family, then I guess I have to find a job. Preferably something where I don’t have to curse anyone. I was thinking of talking with James about Quidditch -’ 

‘ _Yes_ , two Potters in the Falcons -’ 

‘- and _training_. I’m good at the physical. But I don’t want to hurt people any more. Maybe I can take some lessons and turn them to something positive. Work with people. Encourage them. I don’t know.’ Albus shrugged. ‘I’ve got a whole life ahead of me. It’s good to nobody if I waste it moping. What about you guys?’ 

Scorpius tried to not smirk at the flash of worry crossing Rose’s face. ‘Um, I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘Though I’m definitely out of Gringotts. Honestly, I’m a bit sick of digging things up. I’d rather care about the living.’ 

‘And my father tried to upend the family tradition of being idly wealthy. It didn’t end well. Maybe I should remember _some_ Malfoy traditions aren’t so bad,’ said Scorpius, and allowed the smirk this time. Then he pulled out his watch again, and glanced across the table at Albus. 

Al caught his meaning, and drained his tea. ‘Good to hear, but I better shoot off. I’m helping Gran put decorations on the Burrow roof. You guys are going to be there at Christmas, right?’ 

‘Right!’ said Scorpius, exuberant enough to distract Rose. ‘Wouldn’t miss it. I’m seeing Mum for breakfast, but then I’ll be over. I hope you’re helping cook, don’t tell your Gran but your mashed potatoes are creamier -’ 

‘She will curse me before she lets _anyone_ do the work on Christmas Day. So you’ll have to be disappointed.’ 

He scratched his chin. ‘Somehow, I can live with this burden of a Christmas dinner cooked entirely by your Gran.’ 

Albus laughed, hugged them both his farewells, and left. The door hadn’t finished jangling shut before Rose turned to Scorpius and said, voice flat, ‘You were looking at your watch _again_.’ 

He frowned. ‘You got astute. But alright. Come on.’ He tossed coins onto the table and stood, taking his time to put on his coat and gloves just to irritate her more. 

‘I spent five years spying on your every misdemeanour, Malfoy,’ Rose hissed as he led her out into the street. ‘I know when you’re up to something.’ 

‘I _knew_ you were fixated on me, even when you thought you hated me!’ Scorpius grinned and threw an arm over her shoulder. ‘It’s like you tried to deny your love, but it couldn’t possibly -’ 

‘And what were _you_ doing, pulling pig-tails?’ 

‘Oh, please. Boys tease girls they like because they don’t know how to express their affection. I’m a grown man. I can express my affection.’ His grin broadened. ‘I wind you up because it’s _funny_.’ 

It also served to distract her from their destination, which was off a side-road from Diagon and down a narrow cobbled street, the buildings looming close above, so tight it almost looked like roofs were touching. He counted the doors until he stopped at the right one, and gestured in. ‘Here we are.’ 

‘What’s this?’ 

‘Surry Alley used to be all warehouses, in the nineteenth century before spatial compression magics got better and wizarding business stopped needing such huge buildings for storage. Or, that’s what the brochure said.’ The building did indeed have a big, open, old-world feel, though the windows were thicker than they appeared, the corridor well-lit and clean, and the lift they stepped into not as rattling or unreliable as its old-fashioned, cogs-and-levers appearance implied. 

‘I’m going to ask what brochure, but this is honestly my last question, because then you’re going to explain this all in one go.’ 

Scorpius grinned as the lift rattled to a stop and led them to just one door. ‘I was being dramatic so I could _show_ you,’ he said, and pulled a key from his pocket to let them into the flat. Something had to be done with all that warehouse space, after all. 

They were at the top of the building, a huge skylight bringing winter sun through the slanted roof. Grey stone walls were off-set by brass metal fixtures and beams that brought more closeness to the huge, open-plan space, and a kitchen sectioned off by a broad counter gleamed at the far end with modern fittings. 

‘It could be warmer,’ said Scorpius, watching as she wandered in with wide, bewildered eyes. ‘But a bit of decoration could do that. It’s got a little upstairs built in on that other side, so it’s not just one _huge_ room, but a -’ 

‘You _bought_ this?’ She turned to squint at him. 

‘Not yet, I’ve just made an offer. But if you don’t _like_ it, I can always back out, an upset estate agent is nothing if you throw enough money at them -’ 

‘If _I_ don’t like it?’ 

Scorpius shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered to where she stood under the skylight, motes of dust floating about her hair to give her an ethereal, otherworldly look, which he thought apt. This moment shouldn’t have ever been more than a dream to him, but here he was, flesh and blood and speaking out loud. ‘Well, yeah. I’m not going to live in that hotel forever, and it’d be pretty stupid if I got a place and didn’t at least _consult_ you -’ 

Except the moment was here and he was being _him_ about it. ‘…and I didn’t think you wanted to keep living with your parents. Do you like it?’ Now he frowned, nerves catching up with him. ‘To live with me here, I mean.’ 

Rose worked her jaw wordlessly for a moment - then had to lift her hands to stifle a giggle. ‘That was the _least_ smooth - what about the Manor?’ 

‘Oh, that. I thought about selling it, but I know I’d just be doing that to piss Dad off, and I’d also have to jump through legal loopholes if I wanted to do it before he gets _properly_ convicted -’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m renting it to Harley and his Elves at a pittance. They’re using it as a sort of in-between place for House Elves to stay, somewhere they can go if they don’t want to live under their employers’ roofs but don’t have their own place yet. I figured I might as well get onthat whole “use the powers of the Malfoy family for good” plan.’ 

Her gaze rose, drifting around the high roof, the stark blend of old world construction and new age refurbishment he’d hoped she’d find enthralling. ‘You know I can’t just live here and be your idly rich girlfriend.’ 

‘I didn’t think so. And I was kidding about the whole, “idle rich” thing, anyway.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘Mum didn’t get into running that relief charity of hers for the right reasons, but it’s successful anyway. She’s going to take a step back from it.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I think I want to run it.’ 

She looked at him, startled. ‘A charity?’ 

‘I don’t have to globe-trot, I don’t have to go _anywhere_. The charity’s got an office right here in London. I mean, sure, I’ll hire managers, but I actually make a pretty good _face_. I’m well-known, not considered _that_ internationally evil. I’m good with people. I can use that. Be notorious and throw great fundraisers. Again with using the powers of the Malfoy family for good.’ He sighed. ‘For a long time, I wanted to run from the name. Now I’m wondering if I can change it. Properly change it, not change it like Dad did, and change it for me, and for people like Cassian.’ 

Rose was smiling so widely it was like the sun was reflecting right off her face, dazzling into his eyes. ‘That’s a really good idea. I still have no clue what I’m going to do. I’ve spent so long wanting things I couldn’t have, or being dragged along by the world, I didn’t stop to think about _ordinary_ things.’ 

‘You’ve got time. Nobody’s going to do a damned thing between now and Christmas.’ But still he stood, hands in his pockets, staring at her expectantly. 

She shifted. ‘What?’ 

‘You didn’t answer!’ 

‘What?’ 

‘I asked if you like it! If you want to live with me! There’s a whole -’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘We just saved the world in big ways and little ways and now there’s _peace_ and I’m trying to build a _future_ and you’re - I want you in it! Say something! Anything!’ 

‘I’m sorry!’ Laughing, she crossed over to grab his flailing hands. ‘I didn’t realise there _was_ any question -’ 

‘You’re a woman, you’re all wily, who bloody _knows_ -’ 

She cut him off by leaning up for a quick, but very distracting kiss. ‘I love it. I love _you_. I don’t think you should upset the estate agent and I would _adore_ getting out from my parents’ house.’ 

He let out a slow breath, one which purged with it all the tension he hadn’t known still lingered in his guts, in his heart; not just anxiety over this invitation, but guilt and frozen cold that had been in him since he’d died. Or maybe since before then, maybe this was the last of his father’s poisoned legacies being slain, cleansed. He slipped his arms around her, letting the winter’s sun bathe them like another embrace of a shining horizon, and rested his forehead against hers. ‘And I do love you. Enough to answer your voice from the Otherworld, enough to come back for you. Enough, even, for one last, _giant_ sacrifice, which I think should show you that my feelings for you are a never-ending -’ 

‘Scorpius -’ 

‘I love you,’ he said, eyes shining, ‘enough that I’m even okay for you to move in with that _bloody_ cat.’ 

‘Artemis is lovely -’ 

‘If she steals my breakfasts -’ 

Which was when she cut off his protests with another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding - and he was only too happy to surrender, to sink into her arms, and to take all the time in the world to savour the embrace, the moment. 

Because they had, at last, all the time in the world. 


	58. Epilogue

It all happened because of a party. And that party happened because of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. 

So of course it was in the Caribbean. 

And he held it on a beach, because he was melodramatic like that, and because he liked cocktails in half-coconuts with little umbrellas in them. He’d impressed upon the caterers the importance of the little umbrellas. If he was going to throw the best fundraiser the Methuselah Jones Foundation had ever seen, details like that were important. Albus had already drunk three. 

‘I think she’s late because she hates the welcome line,’ Al said as he sipped his fourth through a straw. 

‘You know how many of these things she’s _skipped_?’ Scorpius said, indignant. ‘People are starting to talk. They’re thinking I’ve made her up. That the wedding photos are mock-ups I put on my desk to look like I’m not a sad and lonely man.’ 

‘I could do the welcome line with you.’ Albus smirked. ‘Get that wedding party picture, crop her out of it so it’s you and me -’ 

‘And so the inevitable has happened.’ 

They spun at the wry, familiar tone to see the milling crowds twist and somehow produce Selena and Matt, both very tanned in a way Scorpius found sickening, because he didn’t get to globe-trot half as much as them. Matt had grown out his hair long enough to tie back, which Scorpius didn’t think was a great look but still beat it dangling in his eyes, while Selena, of course, looked like she’d plundered the world’s fashion and emerged like a very glamorous thief. 

He hadn’t seen Selena in a year and Matt in even longer, because Matt had been smart enough to not attend the wedding. But just as she was being sardonic, the first thing Scorpius said was, ‘ _You_ _’re_ late, too.’ 

‘ _I_ was at the bar, dear. Free booze. Great plan.’ Selena gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s wonderful to see you both.’ 

‘Yeah, both of _us_ , I think we’re the new power-couple of the world,’ Scorpius grumbled, but he returned the hug and shook Matt’s hand. ‘Still, glad you could make it. Both of you.’ 

‘Oh, I’ll do a piece on it, it’ll boost your contributions by about ten per cent.’ 

‘I think the fundraiser will do that, love,’ said Matt, smile wry. ‘But you can take credit if you want, and pretend you’re at the party for entirely professional reasons.’ 

Selena stuck her nose in the air. ‘With one wave of a quill, I change a country’s opinions. With one wave of a quill, _you_ send a classroom to sleep as they find another tiresome history book to read.’ 

Albus hid a smirk behind another sip of coconut cocktail. ‘So you two are doing _well_.’ 

Scorpius fished for a sarcastic comment, but then one of the US Department of Magic’s Secretaries passed by, and he had to wave his friends a quick, apologetic farewell and sweep in to rub shoulders. While he was always a fan of a big party, and made the fundraisers as genuinely a good time as possible because he had to put up with them, it was still business at the end of the day. Even if he succeeded at that business by plying his guests with ridiculous cocktails, and sealed the deal by introducing the dour American wizard to a very pretty witch from the Taiwanese contingent, which was difficult as she didn’t speak English and neither wizard had a language in common with her, either. But as far as Scorpius was concerned, the Secretary was an incredibly boring man, so this worked to everyone’s benefit. Happy guests left big cheques. 

By the time he was done, the spinning crowd of well-dressed witches and wizards had rotated his friends somewhere else, so he took a moment to stand on the beach in the dying rays of sun, and soak in the scene. His mother’s house loomed on the cliff above, transformed into an organisational base camp he knew he could leave her in charge of. While she only had so much patience for dealing with meetings and figures these days, Astoria Greengrass knew how to throw a damned good party. She would be down soon, no doubt, to mingle and charm the guests he couldn’t, because she had altogether more tolerance for raging bores. Being married to Draco Malfoy hardened one to some social obligations. 

But for the moment it was just him, and so he eyeballed the crowd to make sure the music - live, local, very good - was keeping them enthused, to make sure the food and drink were flowing freely and going down well, to make sure the tide hadn’t suddenly betrayed him and come racing up to drench ankles and ruin dress robes. This inevitably turned to a checking down the length of the beach, looking that figure who had to be there or the evening couldn’t be _perfect_ , but there was no sign yet, just the blazing dusk and the salty scent of a warm ocean, and the rush of people coming together for a good cause and a good time. 

‘I’m sorry I’m late, the Portkey was delayed and then I had to get _dressed_ -’ 

He turned to find Rose hurrying over so quickly she almost fell into him, but he couldn’t keep an indignant spark from his eyes as he caught his wife. ‘I had to do the welcome line alone!’ 

‘You could do it with Al! He’s so much better at it! And actually works for you!’ 

‘I can’t do it with Al, people are starting to talk.’ 

Rose snatched a drink off a passing waiter and downed it so quickly he wondered if she’d factored rum into her thirst. ‘People have talked about you two for _thirteen years_.’ 

Scorpius opened and closed his mouth, and all he could say in his defiant defence was, ‘I was dead for two of those.’ 

‘You need to stop using that to get out of trouble, and my _God_ , what’s in this drink?’ 

‘It’s the little umbrella, it’s got a hell of a kick.’ He could only grin impishly, of course, as she narrowed her eyes up at him. ‘Selena’s here, by the way. And Matt.’ 

‘I saw.’ She took another sip, and he watched as she used the pause to master that age-old flash of guilt and frustration. ‘Why do you think I didn’t go over there?’ 

‘I thought you might want to, you know, spend time with me. Or offer an actual excuse -’ 

‘The Portkey _was_ late.’ 

‘They usually are, it’s why _Al_ got here _yesterday_ , to make sure he was here on time.’ 

Her eyes were still narrowed. ‘This is why people talk, Scorp. Also, _he_ works for you. _I_ had meetings in London. Important meetings.’ 

Scorpius waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, sure, you’re designing the security wards for the new Global Wizarding Council headquarters, and your deadline was _last_ week, but _I_ _’m_ throwing a party. It’ll help children. Cute ones.’ 

‘That’s a _terrible_ move if you’re trying to make me feel guilty; I will _escalate_ , Malfoy -’ 

His life and freedom flashing before his eyes, Scorpius snatched another drink off a passing waiter. ‘So how’re your _parents_?’ 

She sighed. ‘Oh, they’re fine. Dad’s the same as ever, Harry’s running him ragged still. Mum keeps on getting into fights with the Minister.’ 

‘She really should have just taken that job, the rate she complains about the decisions that get made.’ 

‘Like hell.’ Rose shook her head. ‘We’d be looking at _another_ megalomaniac trying to take over the world.’ 

‘And you can’t throw your mother out a window.’ 

‘There are times…’ 

‘I’ll tell her you said that.’ Albus wandered out of the crowd to join them. ‘You know, next time she’s angry at me for something and I want to deflect the blame.’ 

‘Al!’ Rose hurled herself into his arms for a big hug, and Scorpius rolled his eyes. 

‘Oh, you’re all gleeful to see _him_ , but you’re sardonic at _me_.’ 

‘I saw _you_ yesterday morning.’ She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I haven’t seen Albus in two weeks. How wasRussia?’ 

Albus sighed. ‘Cold. Pretty miserable. But the refurbishment work’s done, and the staff training’s underway. I’d stick around, usually, but I hate it there.’ 

Scorpius was pretty sure he knew why, and pretty sure it had more to do with Moscow’s memories than Moscow’s climate. Especially this time of year. Which prompted him to glance out past the party, down the beach, and this time his gut lurched. ‘Stick with me, mate. I’ll take you exciting places.’ 

But he couldn’t keep the distracted edge from his voice. Albus frowned in confusion, but Rose looked up at him, looked over at Al, and dumped her empty coconut for a fresh one. ‘Selena’s free. I’m going to catch up. I have to tell her all the horrid things you boys have done without her there to support me.’ 

Albus’ frown deepened as she whooshed away into the depths of the party. ‘You two,’ he said, ‘have got scary good at that.’ 

‘What?’ Scorpius attempted an innocent sip of his coconut cocktail, and almost stabbed himself in the eye with an umbrella. 

‘Communicating without talking.’ 

‘Practice. Lots of it.’ Scorpius waggled his eyebrows. 

‘I don’t want to know -’ 

‘You don’t have to go back to Russia.’ Scorpius frowned. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, though it was the truth. 

Albus stopped. ‘I didn’t think you were sending me back.’ 

‘I mean…’ He lowered his coconut and bit his lip. Behind him, somewhere, the band swung into a new song, and the party somehow found a new gear to shift into. He’d have to see to that soon, have to make a grand speech and get the donations flowing, but more important things came first. That was just helping lives across the world. This was personal. ‘I mean I’m giving you a holiday. Paid leave. Six months.’ 

‘ _Why_?’ Al’s eyes narrowed. ‘And don’t we have the Korean project -’ 

‘I do, and it’s important, and you’re good at it. It’s been great having you work with me.’ Scorpius reached out to clasp his shoulder. ‘But I know you’re not happy. You spend half your time in Britain, fussing after every bloody Potter-Weasley who stands still long enough to be fussed over. Then you’re flitting off to build shelters and oversee projects and sure, you’re helping people, but I know what you’re doing. You’re keeping busy. You’re not _happy_.’ 

Albus looked like he might object - then he sagged, and it was like he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. ‘I’m living my life, Scorp, as best I can. And I want to _be_ here for everyone, for you and my family and -’ 

‘And it’s been five years and I’m releasing you from that bloody promise. You’ve been everything everyone could need to get through a crisis, to rebuild themselves, their lives, the _world_. You’re my rock, and you’re my brother, and I don’t think you’ve been _wrong_ , I don’t think you’ve been trapped.’ Scorpius glanced down the beach, and tried to keep his smile under control. ‘I just think it’s time for a change.’ 

Now Albus looked suspicious. ‘You’re not just sending me on holiday for six months.’ 

‘I am. But I’ve got a little going away present.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘See, I was in South Africa last month, and I had this conversation with a fellow named Roux, makes huge donations, works in the Department of Magic -’ 

‘The judge -’ 

‘That’s the one! Anyway, there’s a lot of stuff about judicial hearings and it’s all very boring, but the point is, I need you to take a couple of drinks and go about two hundred metres _that_ way.’ Scorpius shifted his grip on his cocktail so he could point with both fingers down the length of the beach. 

To watch his best friend’s face was to watch galaxies explode into being and die in a single heartbeat. Albus’ breath caught. ‘You’re not -’ 

‘I’m meddling. I’m not _deciding_. I don’t know how things work out logistically, legally, emotionally.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘And you should know this wasn’t my idea. It’s hers. Don’t decide anything, mate. Just take some drinks. And go and have a conversation.’ 

Albus looked to where Scorpius had pointed, down the long beach stretching away from the party, where the dying rays of the sun rippled gold across the ocean and streamed across a lone, silhouetted figure far in the distance. ‘A conversation.’ 

‘And maybe, as your sister would say, the odd smoochies, but who am _I_ to -’ Then Albus punched him on the arm, and Scorpius was too busy roaring with laughter and trying to not spill his drink to keep on teasing. He did, however, manage to wave over a waiter to deliver the required drinks, and Albus took them, looking so dumbstruck _he_ might have been the one who’d been punched. Scorpius straightened, beaming. ‘Get out of here.’ 

Albus almost left dust in his wake for how quickly he vanished, though Scorpius watched him head down the beach, watched his gait slow, turn more hesitant until, in the distance, two lone silhouettes came together. 

He didn’t know if it would work, or last, or be more than a conversation. But sometimes, he had to accept matters were out of his hands. 

‘You’ve not stopped being a meddler, have you, Scorpius?’ 

He grinned at Selena as she joined him, but his brow knotted when he added this up. ‘Um, I thought Rose went to find you?’ 

‘She did. She found. We talked.’ Selena stole his cocktail shamelessly. ‘Now she and Matt are talking.’ 

‘Bloody hell.’ Scorpius blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Shall we duck and cover?’ 

‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe five years is enough time for him to calm down.’ Selena looked up at him. ‘Is it enough time for her to stop hating herself?’ 

His brow creased. ‘I think so. I _hope_ so.’ Hands free, he shoved them in his pockets so he didn’t start gesturing nervously, and looked from her to the swarming crowds of the fund-raising party. ‘Have you seen your mother lately?’ 

‘A few months ago.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘What about you and your father?’ 

‘Same.’ He rocked on his heels. ‘Good behaviour might get him out in a few years.’ 

She snorted into her cocktail. ‘Yeah, they said that good behaviour might get my mother out in a few _centuries_.’ She nodded up at the house on the cliffs. ‘At least you seem better off with your mum.’ 

‘You knew that, the amount you two put away at my wedding.’ Scorpius grinned in recollection. ‘It’s nice, working together. It’s given us something to _do_ , to talk about, so we could just… spend time together. She doesn’t like the idea of Draco getting out. Worries it’s going to make history repeat itself.’ 

‘It might.’ 

‘I won’t let it.’ He shook his head. ‘He stays away from her until _she_ says otherwise. Else he and I are done. No ifs, no buts. And then I _give_ the Manor to the House Elves.’ 

She laughed. ‘Harley would _love_ that.’ 

‘He would.’ He snatched up a fresh drink from a waiter. The rate this was happening would upset staff normally, but it was his party. ‘So you’re doing alright? Think you might come back to live in Britain some day?’ 

‘Maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m doing fine, and Matt doesn’t need to be in Britain to be an enormous professional nerd. People can bitch all they want about me being Lillian Rourke’s daughter, but I have no problem skewering them in a damning exposé. Hypocrisy is my speciality, after all.’ 

He chuckled. ‘So long as you don’t look too deep into _my_ operations after this, huh?’ 

‘What’s a little cover-up between friends?’ It wasn’t a good joke, though, and soured both their smiles. They fell silent, Selena playing with the little umbrella in her cocktail before she said, voice low, ‘How’d we make it after all, Scorpius?’ 

‘What with your vengeful spiral of grief for a dead boyfriend, and me being _dead_ , and somehow we’re both here, okay, and happy? Buggered if I know.’ He sipped his drink. ‘But we’re still young.’ 

‘Plenty of time to screw it up yet.’ 

He cast a glance to the sunlit horizon, where two silhouetted figures stood together in the dying rays of dusk at the beach. Then his gaze followed Selena’s across the crowd, towards the quieter edge where Matt and Rose talked. Matt was tall and stiff and Rose’s arms were around herself, apprehensive and defensive, but they were still conversing. Not yelling or avoiding, condemning and evading. Yet. ‘Yes,’ he agreed softly. ‘Plenty of time.’ 

And as they watched the gathering, and watched the people they loved and cherished, who cared for and respected them, Scorpius Malfoy thought everyone might just be alright after all.

  
_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And that is, undeniably, utterly, adverbly, the end of Oblivion and the end of the Stygian Trilogy._
> 
> _To start my commentary small, I was originally not going to write an epilogue. For all my grand talk of being a cruel, merciless creator, I found myself to be soft in the very, very end, because I couldn’t leave Al and Eva like I did. There are still questions. Will she get a proper, full, legal pardon, and even if she does, what happens then - to her, with her and Al? I can’t answer that. I’d like to think they will. But this ending gives them a Chance, and a chance is everything. So, yeah. I wrote this for them. I’m a ginormous softy, really._
> 
> _As for the rest - well, it’s over, and I find myself for once rather lacking in words._
> 
> _I did not expect to love this trilogy. I honestly wrote ‘Ignite’ originally to be a crowd pleaser, to produce something popular to try to rummage up some attention for my (I felt) superior works. I have always called the series trashy, and I’ve meant it self-effacingly and I’ve meant it affectionately but it was also kind of a mission statement. A good mission statement, because the goal was always for it to be fun. Not necessarily clever or literary or deep. Obviously things went awry, as Oblivion - while structurally one of my weaker stories, and a lesson in pacing and planning - has been one of my most thematically challenging pieces of writing, not to mention morally ambiguous. And I have adored taking this messy, scrappy, broken band through these adventures, far more than I anticipated._
> 
> _So if you liked this, check out my other works and see what lessons I've learnt._
> 
> _~ Slide out._


End file.
